


So Make it Rain

by bittertrees



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Electrocution, More tags to come as the story progresses, Other, perfect!bendy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 90,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittertrees/pseuds/bittertrees
Summary: 'We'll get them a soul! After all, I own THOUSANDS of them!'Joey had told him to visit the old workshop, for what purpose, Henry wasn't sure. Not until the very end at least. And even still, his mind and life are racked with a plethora of questions and not a single answer.Joey wanted him there for a reason. The Ink Demon was waiting. They had plans for an old animator like Henry. One such plan that involved Henry becoming the very cartoon he created. Whether he wanted to or not || Perfect!Bendy via Henry AU.





	1. Remember, Remember

**Author's Note:**

> I finally get back into writing fanfic (after three years of going without it) and my first one is the very AU that all the fandom and their mother has written/drawn about. Which is fine by my standards! I always loved this idea of Henry being the key to making the perfect!Bendy. So please, feel free to enjoy and leave feedback if you can! I'm very excited to return to writing again.

_There’s just something_ **_UNWORLDLY_ ** _about him._

Unworldly? Henry might have used a few different choice words.

_Soulless._

He’d heard Joey use that word in an audio log. One of the many that littered the defunct studio. Despite the fact he knew the voices could bring about those ink abominations, he’d still taken the time to listen. Thank his _lucky stars_ that no creature had ever answered the call of an audio log. Though was he truly lucky to know of the horrors that had befallen the studio once he’d left?

Faces of the past had shimmered by. _Norman. Sammy. Susie. Wally._ All of them. Gone. Most likely. He knew for a fact Sammy was no longer of sound mind _(or of human body)_. Possibly Norman and Susie too. If his assumptions were correct.

He’d come across ink creature after ink creature. Some attacking. Some wallowing in self pity. Few could speak, and the ones that did never had anything good to say.

_I want to go home. I still remember my name. The created_ **_LIED_ ** _to us. Please, set us free. Do you hear the demon?_

The demon. The thing that was soulless, unworldly, an abomination. The thing that might have set off the destruction of the studio. That along with Joey’s _ideas_.

So far, Henry had only caught glimpses of it. From the relative safety of a Little Miracle Station. Or from behind glass. The thing...never truly came after him. Hell, Henry had half a mind to believe that the thing knew of his hiding spot once it had come along and ripped the head off that projectionist. Yet, it didn’t attack. It chased. It stalked. It **GRINNED**. But it did not bring him harm.

That didn’t mean Henry was going to live through what he was about to do next.

“Wow! I’ve never seen this before!”

Alice looked amazed, at least a little bit. An inky lake standing between them and the entrance to what was most likely the lair of the demon. Henry’s eyes glanced around the area, his frown growing deeper when he realized there was nothing there that could safely transport them all across the ink.

“I don’t see anything around. Nothing to build a raft with. We’ll have to wade across.”

As soon as he said it, Henry knew it had been the wrong thing to utter. A tension seeming to fill the wide expanse of the room. Tom letting out a low huff behind him. Alice inclining her head to look in his direction. The small smile from before now having faded into a frown. Something that should never mark the face of an angel.

“We can’t...we’re...we’re not like you, Henry.”

Oh. **_OH._ ** Right. They were ink creatures right? Just like the demon, except, a Hell of a lot less terrifying. That defunct Alice from before had said something about how the _inky puddles_ could pull them all back in. The _good_ Alice had stated that touching the ink for too long would pull you back in.

It hit him instantly that she nor Tom could come with him to confront the demon. And once again, going would leave him all alone.

“Then I guess it’s all up to me.”

Of course it was.

He still didn’t know why he was there. He voiced as much. He thought at first it was just because he wanted to appease the ravings of an old friend. Of a man he thought to be growing senile in his old age. But now? God, was being there his punishment for leaving the studio? For not sticking around and keeping to long lost promises?

“There’s always a reason.” Alice spoke up. A gentle hand placed onto Henry’s shoulder. The smile from before slowly starting to reform. Her way of reassuring him that he was there for some purpose. Though what it was, neither of them had a clue.

“Henry?” Her voice sounded so small as she said it “ _Set us free._ ”

A moment later, Tom was smacking a hand against Henry’s back. Another low huff given. Words of encouragement? Sure. Why not? Henry would take it. Unable to stop himself from shooting a small smile in the toon’s direction. Giving one to Alice as well. They hadn’t known each other for long, and yet, Henry felt as if he were surrounded by old friends. Hell, for all he knew, they probably **WERE** old friends. But which ones?

Stepping closer to the inky lake, Henry placed a hesitant foot into the ink. He almost expected to be pulled under immediately. Some stray hand or some Searcher come to end him before he could end it all. But nothing came. Not even as he placed another foot into the _lake_ and sunk down in. The ink coming up to his waist, seeping through his clothes and causing them to stick to his skin. Slowly he started to wade through the ink, sparing one last glance to his left behind comrades.

“They could have at least given me a weapon.” He mumbled, wondering if he could beat the ink demon with his fists alone. Joey used to say that Henry did have a **MEAN** left hook.

Soon he came upon the steps. Taking his time to walk up them so as to not slip on the ink. That caution didn’t stop his foot from going out from under him, causing Henry to slide forward and catch himself on a wall. From behind him, he swore he heard Tom chuckle. It was a low resonating sound, but it was there.

“Shut up!” Henry grumbled with a shake of his head. Not bothering to look back before he surged forward. Let the toons have their laughs. That little slip up was probably the only amount of amusement they had gotten in...God knew how long.

“All right, Joey. Lets find what you wanted me to see.”

He echoed his words from the beginning. From the moment he stepped into the studio. A feeling he couldn't explain, going through him to say:

_This is it._

That at the end of the corridors would be his answer. For why Joey wanted him to return to the studio. Perhaps to fix the old man’s sins of the past? Perhaps to just bear witness to the horrors that Joey had caused? Soon he would reach the end. Soon it would all be over. Hopefully.

“I went to church. I humored Linda. Was it because I skipped a service or two to stay home and sleep in?”

He spoke to himself. It was the only thing that kept his heart from racing as he looked into the glass casings. Words written in ink, alongside handprints. Soon shifting to human shaped creatures. Ones that resembled what Sammy had become, save for the overalls and creepy mask.

“Who were you?” He had to wonder as he stepped closer to one of the casings. The creature paid him no mind. It just continued to sob into its hands. Mumbling words that Henry couldn’t quite make out. Had the creature once been Grant? Steven? Carol from accounting? He couldn’t dwell on it very long. Thinking of faces from the past only served to sadden him more.

Had he stayed...would they all still be alive? Could he have prevented Joey from…? **_NO!_ ** It was not his fault. He wouldn’t fall into self pity and make his heart full of regrets. He hadn’t been Joey’s handler back then and he still wasn’t. That old man had done this and might have still done it without Henry there or not. Henry might have **BEEN** one of those ink creatures had he not left.

Another lever pulled and a door opened. Stepping forward, Henry found himself and what could only be described as some odd throne room. Even from a distance, he could see a tape recorder sitting nearby. A few steps closer and he stood before the throne. Eyes looking from the tape recorder to the various clips playing upon the walls. Some cartoons he had helped make. Stories he’d helped create. And others? Well, the quality certainly went downhill once he left.

“I can see the sketch lines in that one. What was Morris thinking when he took my spot?”

Now wasn’t the time to reflect on the bad animation. He knew that. Eyes forced away from the screens. A hand reached out for the tape recorder that lay in waiting, only to come to a halt as an inky claw beat him to it.

Slowly his gaze went up and up and up until he was staring into the grotesque smiling face of the demon. The creature didn’t seem to react beyond blocking Henry’s access to the tape recorder. In fact, the thing just inclined it’s head. As if Henry were some oddity that it just couldn’t quite understand. And perhaps that was all the man truly was to the beast. Just as the beast was that to Henry.

“Bend...Bendy?”

Appeal to its...what? Its possible empathetic side? Could they all may be just be wrong about the demon? Perhaps it was just like Tom and Alice. A misunderstood ink creature that was only _scary_ because people saw its outsides and thought it a monster.

_Oh. Oh, how wrong he was_ . Thomas and Joey had called the thing **SOULLESS** for a reason.

The creature responded to the name, but not in the way Henry had hoped. Instead the thing leaned forward, claw leaving the tape recorder to instead slash at the old animator. Had he been a second too slow, Henry doubted he would have gotten out of the attack unscathed. The creature only grazing the air as Henry stepped back. That only seemed to anger the creature even more. Hands growing in size, disappearing behind the throne. Horns growing and growing. Soon revealing a monster beyond Henry’s worst nightmare.

“Not Bendy.”

And he ran. Oh, he ran like a bat out of Hell. His feet carrying him farther when he heard the creature roar behind him. Henry didn’t even have time to look back before a hand slapped him and sent him sailing forward and to the floor. When he opened his eyes, he was in an area he didn’t recognize from before. More casings and a few levers. Behind him was a wall with an ink stain covering it. Had the creature…?

**_“I gotta say, it’s been fun, real fun. You made a good effort.”_ **

The words bounced off Henry’s skull. In such a loud and obnoxious voice that it almost caused his ears to ring. Where had it come from? Who had…?

The creature stood in front of him. Crouching down, still in that beastly form at first, but slowly it started to shift back to the form it had before. Animalistic type teeth reverting back into a wide set grin. Hands, still huge, but not both clawed. Henry felt as if his heart would burst through his chest. It just stared at him as it did before. Looking ready to roar in his face and deafen him. But it did not roar, it **SPOKE** . In a sense. Words instead echoing in Henry’s head rather than being spoken by the creature itself. Something the animator didn’t even think the thing could do! After all that time...it could **SPEAK?**

**_“But I couldn’t make it THAT easy for you. After all, we have plans for you. You’re the SAVIOR we’ve been waiting for, big guy. Too bad ol’ Sammy didn’t realize that when he tried to uh...free ya.”_ **

“What are you talking about?” Henry shouted, only to have his words responded to by a claw slamming down on his back. The next thing from his mouth was a pained shout. Henry had felt as if his spine was trying to collapse in on him.

He was so lost. On a variety of levels. Plans for him? What plans? Who was the _we_ the creature was talking about? It and...Joey? But didn’t the old man send Henry to **STOP** all of it? No, that was just something he had told himself. No doubt a lie to be used as a means to keep a good image of Joey in his head.

“What...plan…?” He stammered out through pained gasps. The creature before him was still applying a heaping load of pressure on his back. And God knew that Henry was no young spring chicken anymore. The creature knew too, most likely. Continuing to look at the old animator with its _painted_ on smile.

**_“I can’t spoil it all for ya, Henry! Wheres the fun in that?”_ **

It leaned closer, soon taking up the entirety of Henry’s vision. Even when he tried to move his head to the side to peek passed it, the creature just followed his movements. Snickering and practically taunting him. Happy that it was part of some grand _scheme_ and leaving Henry in the dark.

**_“But, just cause I don’t wanna spoil it, don’t mean I won’t give you some hints! You’ll need them after all! Do you remember what they called me in those tapes of theirs? And don’t act like you never heard them before. I watched you listening to them all!”_ **

It **WATCHED** him? Had it been...had it been with him the entire time? Stalking him throughout the studio? Through each fallen hole and elevator ride? Was that why Henry had always felt like he was being watched? And there he thought it was nothing more than the countless Searchers and Lost Ones peeking at him. But in reality...it was the demon.

“They called you...called you soulless…”

In an instant Henry was being lifted from the ground by the back of his shirt. Tossed in the air before forcefully being brought back down and slammed onto the hard floor. Another pained shout escaping him. Eyes closed shut as ringing filled his ears. He heard the demon say something, but between the pain and ringing, he couldn’t quite make it out.

“...Wha…?”

**_“Whoops, sorry ‘bout that. Forget you’re an old timer! Can’t be thrown around too much or you might fracture a hip or somethin’! I said you were right. SOULLESS. The big bad demon.”_ **

It raised its gloved hand and started twirling a finger about in the air. If it could frown, Henry was sure it would be doing so right now. He had just heard the sheer hate and disdain dripping from the thing’s voice.

**_“Lock it up! I don’t want to see it! Aaaah! It’s so hideous! What a monster!”_ ** It went about trying to imitate different voices. It wasn’t hard to guess that the _lock it up_ portion was meant to be of Joey. The man whose _brilliant_ idea it had been the create the creature in the first place. Only to throw it into a room, lock the door and toss the key. Eventually doing the same for the entirety of the studio.

Did all of them have the same sort of hate that the demon had? Surely they must have, and they all had shown it in different ways. Sammy had become some strange devout, worshiping the cartoon he once hated. _Susie_ had grown bitter with the desire to be the perfect Alice for Joey, perhaps hoping it would set her free.

The Searchers? The Lost Ones? The deformed Butcher Gang? Lashing out or left crying in puddles left by their own ink. Asking to go home or grasping at something human. Something that once reminded them of who they used to be.

Alice and Tom? What sort of hate did they hold but left unsaid? Who had they once been? Did they see Joey Drew the way everyone else there did? Did they even know that the old man was the reason for their existence?

**_“Joey made promises to people. I heard them, even when locked away. Ink flows through this place don’t it? It’s pretty easy to tap into after awhile. Got in some great practice seeing as I never had anythin’ to do but sit there and wear this goofy smile!”_ **

“...And? Did he make one to you too?”

**_“Funny thing about that! He DID!”_ ** Oh. Henry had been trying to be sarcastic **_“Promised one day I’d be whole, during one of his few visits. Not too long before he closed up shop and left me here with all of these chumps!”_ **

Henry didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all.

The demon started to fiddle with the front of Henry’s shirt. Claws digging in enough as a means to bother the animator, but not rip the fabric. The shirt was already a mess enough. A few holes from earlier adventures throughout the studio as well as a multitude of ink stains. Glancing down to his shirt, Henry noticed a few new stains upon the fabric. Some caused from the ink demon’s clawed hand. Others from the fact the thing’s face was practically melting down upon the animator.

**_“You’ll be whole, he said. Gotta wait a little longer, he said. He needed the final piece. He’d have it delivered to me as soon as he could. He just needed the RIGHT person first.”_ **

If he wasn’t panicking before, he was now. Eyes darting around for any sort of weapon. Mentally scolding himself for not going back and asking Alice for her sword. Or Tom for his axe. He should have known better. He should have known his luck would run out. That the ink demon wasn’t as _friendly_ as he might have first thought it to be.

“So he sent me.” Henry finally uttered. Though for _what_ exactly, he wasn’t sure. The demon still made little sense. As if it were darting around its endgame. As if it wanted Henry to figure it all out himself.

**_“Really? Not gettin’ it? Shame. Ah well! You’ll get there, old timer!”_ **

It poked Henry square in the forehead with one gloved finger. More ink dripping down from it’s body and covering the animator. Henry nearly gagged when some of the ink landed in his mouth, turning his head to the side and spitting it out. That...that was when he saw _it_.

**_“Oh! Took ya long enough.”_ **

Below him was a pentagram. Crudely drawn but exactly like the other ones he’d seen drawn around the studio. How had he not noticed it before? Because of the running. Because of the panic. Damn it. _Damn it!_

Turning his attention back to the demon, he didn’t get to look at the crazed grin for long. A glob of ink falling into his eyes, blinding him as the gunk started to burn. Eventually the feeling had spread throughout the rest of his body. Was the damn thing’s ink **TOXIC** or something? Acidic? What the Hell was it doing with the pentagram? Henry would be damned if he’d be another Boris or some Searcher! Or God’s forbid, another Sammy!

**_“Welcome home, Henry. We’re gonna have a HELL of a time!”_ **

\-----------------

_We’ll get them a soul!_

_After all, I own_ **_THOUSANDS_ ** _of ‘em!_

\-----------------

He felt numb. Incredibly so. As if his entire body were composed of nothing but jello. Henry figured that meant his body had just been ground into mush. Or that he was floating in a pool of ink. **OR** he was one of those blasted creatures he’d been fighting against for the past few hours...days...something like that.

But if that were the case, why could he recall so much about himself? Going over facts in his head at rapid fire. From what he’d observed, most of the others had little clue of their lives before becoming _one_ with the ink. Sure, some had stated names, but then forgot them a moment later. Some remembered their homes, and then presumed that little village was their home.

But Henry, he could...still recall most everything. What he had for breakfast before arriving at the studio. The golf game he’d had with Chris last week. Watching his grandson’s football game. _Linda_. It was all still there. So then...what happened?

Henry willed himself to open his eyes. Vision blurred, but not so much so that he couldn’t tell he was still in the demon’s lair. Glass cells surrounding him with ink creatures standing inside. Turning his head, he barely made out the crudely drawn pentagram beneath him. All of that, yet no sign of the demon. Had it just...vanished? Was it through toying with him and was ready for _The End?_

Ha, fat chance. With how it had acted before, spouting nonsense about a promise, and Joey, it was doubtful the thing was done with him. It had practically insinuated it **NEEDED** him. But for what? Henry was nothing more than a man who’d up and left thirty years ago. The studio hadn’t been a part of him for a long time. What was so _special_ and _right_ about him that Joey had made the creature wait specifically for Henry’s arrival.

_‘I’m getting too old for this.’_

Slowly, he made himself sit up. Rather surprised by the fact his back wasn’t protesting it. Just further confirmation that **SOMETHING** had to have changed within. Perhaps he was one of those sentient blobs, like Sammy? Able to hold something close to a human form. But, still, the fact he still had his memories.

Henry sat there for a few moments. Opening and closing his eyes. Waiting for his vision to clear up before he dare to go any further. The ink demon could still be lingering and Henry did not wish to face the beast again with sporadic vision.

_“It’s here.” “The Prophet was right.” “He has come to free us.” “Mercy on us, unholy one.”_

Stop, stop, **STOP**. Ugh, what was that nonsense? Coming from the glass cages? And there Henry had thought the things were sound proof! The fact they were talking about Bendy made the animator’s skin crawl - so to speak. He still felt incredibly numb.

“Where are you, Bendy?”

He called out, only to freeze in place. His mind was still befuddled. His vision was still all over the place. A slight ringing in his ears. Surely that had been why...why his voice didn’t sound quite right.

It sounded, more nasal and high pitched. Like someone straining to change their own voice into something _cartoonish_. Just like...just like the voice he’d always imagined Bendy to have.

_‘No. No, you’re just confused. Calm down, Henry.’_

The old animator strained to pulled himself up to a standing position. Nearly falling forward as his feet got caught onto something. Looking down, and straining his eyes, he saw that it was his own pants that he was caught up in. The trousers laying in a pile on the floor. Looking down further, Henry took notice of the fact he was no longer wearing them _(duh!)_ or his own shoes. His stained shirt now hanging off of him like an oversized trash back.

_‘You’re still confused. You’re still confused.’_

**_‘You’re really not.’_ **

Henry’s head whirled around so fast that he lost balance. Almost as if his head had nothing to stabilize it and keep it in place. Causing the animator to drop down onto the floor next to his lost trousers and shoes. Eyes darting around for the ink demon. He’d heard it. He’d **HEARD** it.

“Where are you? What did you do?”

There was that nasally shout again. But nothing responded to it. Not even a mocking laugh. Henry was left to fall into silence, eventually letting out an aggravated shout before trying to push himself up to stand again. He needed to figure out what the demon had done to him. Though, as fear and panic crept into his heart, he felt as if he already knew.

Henry carefully moved his head from side to side, looking for the nearest glass cage, hoping it would provide a reflection despite how smeared they all were with ink. The closest _(and cleanest)_ one wasn’t too far off. Scooping up his lost trousers and hiking up the now oversized shirt, Henry made his way over. Voices ringing in his head again. Bouncing off his brain like a ping pong ball.

_“Lord? Mercy?” “Did you set the Prophet free?” “Please, Lord, me next.”_

“Stop talking.” He mumbled under his breath. Starting to get annoyed with how his own voice was starting to sound. If it was even his anymore.

Approaching the glass cage, Henry had dropped his trousers. If he wasn’t so numb or discombobulated, he might have felt his heart rate accelerate, if he still even had one. Because staring back at him from the reflection...was Bendy. But it wasn’t the demon he’d seen masquerading as his creation. It was **BENDY**. How the cartoon devil actually looked! Horns and little boy tie. Pie cut eyes.

And a stained white shirt. Full of holes and ink stains. Well, that wasn’t part of Bendy. That was part of Henry.

“Jesus Christ…”

That was all he could bring himself to say. Staring at the reflection. Unable to pull his eyes away. He was...not himself. Surely it was all a trick of the eyes! The demon was toying with him further. The reflection had to be wrong. It had to be **FAKE**. But when Henry held his hand up to touch the glass cage, it wasn’t human skin he saw. It was a white glove. Connected to a black arm.

That was the moment Henry broke down and sunk to the floor. Falling to his knees so hard that it let out a sickening sound. But he didn’t feel it. He felt nothing. No pulse. No sounds of his breathing. His eyes didn’t burn from a need to blink. He felt no pain from the injuries he had sustained throughout his whole ordeal.

_Nothing was there._

Was **THAT** what Joey had wanted from him? Was Henry the last employee left for the bastard to make into an ink... _thing?_ Was the old man not satisfied until all his old workers had been trapped in the old studio? All of that talk about wanting to meet up like old times. To discuss ideas. Telling Henry perhaps he’d gain motivation again if he were to visit the old workshop.

Had it all just been a huge, raging **LIE?** Just a ruse to get Henry to the state he was now? As some...some... _knock off_ Bendy?

He should have felt rage. Anger. He should have raised a fist and tried to smash the glass cage. He should have done **SOMETHING**. And yet, he did nothing. Because he felt nothing. The only feeling that might have been there was...contentment? Though Henry for the life of him couldn’t figure out why in God’s name he’d be feeling that right now.

Not when he wasn’t himself. Not when he might possibly be stuck as some little imp demon.

_“Lord?”_

Henry forced his eyes away from his reflection. Instead letting his gaze drift to the cage next door. One of the ink creature’s had its hands pressed against the glass. Looking at him with saddened yellow _eyes_. A few others had joined in on the movement. Pressing themselves against the glass, trying all to get a better look at Henry.

No, they weren’t looking at him. They were looking at _Bendy._

_“Free us, please. We have been faithful.”_

_“The Prophet said you would.”_

_“I want to go home.”_

“I can’t…” He sounded so small. He didn’t know what to do for them. So in his panic, he simply got up and walked away. He would have ran if he could, but he was still so unsteady. Having to hold onto a wall as he tried to go through the maze of corridors and find the exit.

_Alice. Tom._

_“LORD! PLEASE!”_

_“I WANT TO GO HOME!”_

Henry winced from their shouting. He didn’t even know they could do that. Their voices all sounded as if they were in his head. Was that what it meant to be made of ink? Able to hear everyone’s thoughts? Maybe that was why they had all gone mad, despite losing their human forms. Henry had only heard them for a few minutes and yet he felt as if his entire world was falling apart.

**_‘Bunch of schmucks, aren’t they?’_ **

Again, the demon’s voice rang out. Henry forced himself to look around, yet there was no sign of the oversized toon. It had to be hiding, it had admitted to watching Henry by such means the entire time. It had to be doing that now. Mocking him from the shadows. Wondering what he’d do next with his new form. The ink demon and Joey, laughing it up.

“Just keep going, Henry. Just keep going.”

He had to keep repeating the words. Mainly to drown out the voices of the ink creatures shouting from behind him. Though it didn’t make him feel any better to hear the nasal pitch to his voice. Shuddering every time he spoke. Still in disbelief of what had happened. Over what he was now.

“Henry?” The voice called out “Tom! Tom, I see someone coming out! Henry!”

Even from a distance, the animator could hear the gruff huff of the wolf toon. No doubt the big guy was dismayed with Alice’s shouting. After all, if it wasn’t Henry, it could be the ink demon. Er, though he supposed he was _technically_ a demon now too. That thought gave Henry reason to pause. He hadn’t thought of how his companions may react to seeing him in such a state. Limping forward, no longer the human he once was.

“Henry?” Alice called again, now her tone sounded worried. It was enough to make the old animator feel guilty. Swallowing up his hesitation and forcing himself forward. Into the entrance way of the demon’s lair.

“Hen-! …”

Saw that coming a mile away.

“Alice! Tom! It’s-!”

Henry fell to the floor as something came sailing passed his head. Once he recovered, he saw it was a piece of piping. Eyes darting away from it to look across the way, just barely seeing Tom move out of throwing position and preparing to grab another piece of abandoned piping. Where had he found all of that while Henry had been gone? Wouldn’t that have been useful during his confrontation with the demon! Damned, wolf!

“Tom! Stop! It’s me! It’s Henry.”

Sitting up on his knees, he held his hands up in surrender. Showing that he had no weapon and truly meant no harm. After all, what could he do to them if he was across the inky lake? Alice had said that being in there too long forced you back down into **BEING** ink. But...if they thought he was the true ink demon. Who was to say they didn’t believe the creature was immune to such things?

“It’s-!”

Another piece of piping flew by. Henry let out an admittingly cartoonish yelp as he dove back to the floor.

“Tom! Stop!” Alice shouted and moved forward, standing before her fellow toon as a means to prevent him from throwing anything further. Henry’s vision still wasn’t at its best form, but even he could tell that Tom was making gestures and pointing at him. No doubt trying to convene something like:

_“It’s the ink demon! He ate Henry! Kill him with pipes!”_

Yeah, that sounded like a Tom thing to say.

“Don’t you think if it were the demon he would have attacked us by now? And what do you think pipes would do to the demon anyway!” Alice tried to speak reason, but it was plainly obvious that her companion wasn’t convinced. Seeing as he reached down for more piping and prepared for another throw. Only coming to a halt when Alice latched onto his wrist.

“Tom! It **IS** me!” Truly a convincing argument. But Henry honestly didn’t know what else to say. Hell, he couldn’t even explain just what had happened to him in the first place. He had nothing up his sleeves to convince Tom it was him, and it was doubtful even Alice could get the wolf to see reason.

The angel could only do so much after all. Henry watching as the toon strategically used her foot to kick away the leftover piping. Whether off to the side or into the inky lake, she did her best to keep it from Tom’s grasp. While simultaneously trying to stop him from throwing what was left in his hand.

“Enough!”

The shout finally caused the wolf to stand down, but even from a distance, Henry could still tell the toon was tense. The other becoming incredibly alert as Henry forced himself to stand again. It hurt seeing the wolf so distrustful of him again. But not as much as it did seeing Alice look the same. Even though she’d been trying to defend him, there was still doubt in those eyes of hers.

“I...I **AM** me. I am Henry. I don’t...the ink demon did something. I don’t know what but there was a pentagram and ink and…”

And what? The damn thing had blinded him before he could process anything else! And even if he did know what the demon had done to him, how could he be so sure that his companions would even believe him? They knew just as much about the weird pentagrams and _rituals_ of this place as Henry did. Which was to say - not a damn thing.

“It made you...itself?” Alice called over, looking over the old animator. Though now he was more of a short cartoonish demon.

“Not itself, but, what it **SHOULD** have been. It kept going on about Joey promising it something. Promising to make it on model, I guess? It-”

“It _spoke_ to you?” Now the angel looked even more doubtful. The demon didn’t speak, they had all believed that for so long. That the demon was a mindless ink monster, more so bent on taking down what it saw in its path. Not one for conversation “But it can’t-”

“But it **DID!** Alice, I know what I’m saying doesn't make sense. It doesn’t...it doesn’t to me either. But you have to believe me. I am really Henry!”

Alice looked as if she wanted to say more, but Tom grasped her shoulder and took her attention away. The wolf shaking his head and motioning with his head for them to go. The angel looked hesitant, looking back and forth from her companion and Henry. Unsure of who to believe. But in the end, she turned her back on the animator.

“Alice!” He called out to her, taking a step forward but stopping as his foot hit the ink. Pulling back so fast he fell onto his rump “Alice! Tom!”

_‘Don’t leave me here!’_

The angel stopped at the doorway and looked back at him again. Did he see remorse on her face? Further hesitation? Henry opened his mouth to try and bring her back. To try and convince her not to leave him behind. She was his ticket to safety. She had more faith in him than Tom.

But it was futile. For just as Henry came up with what to say, Tom had grasped the angel’s arm and pulled her along. Not giving Alice any time to react as she was dragged away. No doubt the two believing they were in relative safety now. Believing the ink demon to be now some impish thing stuck in it’s own lair. Believing Henry to be dead.

But in reality? The ink demon was somewhere, still there. And Henry? He was stuck all alone.


	2. Brothers In Arms

_ “He just...quit?” _

_ “And without a single notice! Just up and left!” _

_ Joey was practically fuming as he stood next to Henry’s desk. Ranting and raving about their latest loss. Frankly, Henry wasn’t sure what to say about it. He couldn’t blame his fellow animator for up and leaving. Not with all the demands that their boss constantly placed upon them. None of them were ever privy to upcoming deadlines, and would often be scolded if they didn’t meet them. _

_ Save for Henry, who only got off the hook because he was close friends with the boss. But that really didn’t mean much of anything in the end. Joey would still find ways to bring his lead animator down if something wasn’t done on time or done correctly. Perhaps that was why thoughts of leaving had been swimming around in his own mind as of late. But he was never  _ **_BRAVE_ ** _ enough to pull the trigger. _

_ “He had the nerve to claim I was being unfair! Unreasonable!” Joey raved. _

_ “What exactly did you ask him to do?” _

_ “I simply stated that if he didn’t think he could meet tomorrow's deadline that he should just stay the night and work throughout it. The shots would all be done before the sun even comes up!” _

_ “The deadline is  _ **_TOMORROW?_ ** _ ” Henry let out a heavy sigh. Finally, he turned away from his boss and went about his work. If they truly had to be done by tomorrow, then he had work to do. Such work did not involve listening to Joey ramble on and on. _

_ “Yes, yes. Didn’t I tell you?” _

_ “No. No you didn’t.” _

_ It took everything in his power not to huff and to keep a neutral tone. Anything else would cause Joey to have something else to complain about. Since starting the studio, since creating those silly little cartoons, his friend had become a different sort of man. One set off so easily if something didn’t go his way. Or if something in the studio was failing. _

_ Like their damn animation department. They were down two animators now. And Henry was highly positive the four others there were planning their own rebellion sooner rather than later. _

_ “Well...it’s tomorrow! So get on it! With James gone, the rest of you will have to work overtime! Now I know that doesn’t seem fair, however, just think of all those children who will be happy to see their favorite little cartoon devil in a new adventure! Just think-” _

_ “Joey, I swear to God, if you start going into one of your  _ **_DREAM SPEECHES_ ** _ , I will personally shove all my pencils down your throat.” _

_ A moment of silence hit the room. Henry realizing that it probably wasn’t the best to threaten his boss, even if the man was an old friend. Letting out a sigh, he was ready to deliver an apology when Joey suddenly let out a laugh and gave the animator a hardy  _ **_SMACK_ ** _ on the back. _

_ “I should know better than to throw that stuff at you, you’re right. After all, you’ve heard them a thousand times before.” _

\----------

He sat on the stairs for what felt like hours. In reality, it had probably only been ten minutes.

Alice and Tom had left him there. Across the inky pond and in the lair of the demon. With nothing to do but ponder what he could possibly do next. Not a whole lot of ideas were able to pass through Henry’s mind. He often shot down any that tried to spark.

_ ‘I could cross the ink.’ _

That had been his first idea. When he still had hope of catching up to his lost comrades. He’d waded across the ink before, he could do so again. But when he’d gotten to the last step, he’d remembered that he wasn’t  **HIMSELF** anymore. He wasn’t human. He was...ink. So he believed. Just like the rest of them. And what had Alice said about things like them diving into large pools of ink?

_ A drop of water in the ocean is rarely seen again. _

That lovely thought had squashed such an idea very early. There was also the fact Henry was no longer as tall all he used to be. When he was still human, the  _ pond _ only came up to his waist. But as a short little ink demon? He’d sink to the bottom in a millisecond. 

There was also the question of what he would do if he got across the pond. Where would he go? Tom clearly wouldn’t take him anywhere. The toon thought of Henry as the ink demon now, and for good reason. There would be no convincing him. But Alice, there was a spark there. If Tom hadn’t pulled the angel away at the last second, Henry had no doubt he could have said something to change her mind. And perhaps he could still do that.

Alice could convince Tom so long as Henry convinced her. They could be some semblance of a team again. Maybe figure out just what in the world had happened to him. Why the ink demon had tossed him on a pentagram and smothered him with ink. Left him as some  _ perfect model _ copy of itself before running off.

**_‘Still not gettin’ it, are ya?’_ **

Henry nearly jumped out of his skin  _ (ink?) _ . Flying up from the steps and looking behind him into the entrance corridor of the lair. No one stood there. No one was hanging off the ceiling. It was empty, save for the few stray voices of the Lost Ones inside. But he could have  **SWORN** he had heard the ink demon. The thing still had to be around. Waiting to pounce on Henry at the exact moment he was most vulnerable.

Which...would have been earlier. When the old animator was stumbling about with blurred vision and shaky legs. When he’d been shocked by his new form and nearly left a broken down shell on the floor. Why hadn’t it attacked him then? Why was it waiting? Was that part of its deal with Joey? To drive Henry mad with  **WAITING GAMES** .

Well, he wasn’t going to give either of them that satisfaction. Nor was he going to continue waiting around. He had questions that needed to be answered. And there was still no doubt parts of the studio were left unexplored. If he could get Alice and Tom back on his side, perhaps he’d be able to find what he needed. Whether it was a way to return back to normal, or just simply get a word in with Joey Drew, the animator didn’t care. He just knew that he couldn’t sit around moping any longer.

With new found vigor, Henry strode back into the demon’s lair. Passing the glass cages with Lost Ones staring at him. They had continued to call out to him, and for the first few minutes of walking, it drove him mad. Having to use every ounce of willpower he had not to look at them or speak. He wasn’t their  _ savior _ . They had been blinded by Sammy’s gospel. Henry wouldn’t help them to fool themselves further by playing along or talking to them.

_ “Lord, please.” _

_ “Set us free.” _

_ “Why aren’t you helping us? We’ve prayed to you!” _

_ “Don’t lie to us like  _ **_HIM_ ** _.”  _ That comment caused Henry to pause. And he almost,  **ALMOST** , broke down and looked at the one who’d said it.  _ “Please, don’t lie to us too, Lord.” _

“Just keep going, Henry.”

Eventually, he came upon the pentagram. He hadn’t even been trying to return to it. He’d been trying to make his way back to that throne room. Perhaps give himself the chance to finally listen to that tape Joey had left behind. Gather up some scrap and build a raft. The two goals he’d had in mind. Things to start with. And yet he hadn’t a clue where the Hell the throne room was. He’d found it so easily the first time trouncing through the lair. Now it was like the entire area had shifted, hoping to make it hard for Henry to find anything he did once before.

Except that damn pentagram.

Henry couldn’t help but look it over. He didn’t understand any of that occult stuff. He didn’t think Joey was so keen on it either. Up until a few days  _ (?) _ ago at least. He was learning so much about his old  _ friend _ that he didn’t know of before. Such as how mad Joey had truly become as the studio had started to fail. 

“Because when I see failure, I also want to turn everyone I’ve worked with into inky demons from Hell.”

Henry huffed, kneeling down next to the pentagram as if it would give him more insight. It didn’t. And frankly, he wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to it. But something was nagging him at the back of his mind. Telling him the symbol would be important to him at some point. That he’d need to remember what it looked like. The exact size of the circle. The little drawings in between. He tried to shake the feeling off, but just couldn’t. 

So he relented.

Letting out a sigh, Henry rose from his spot on the ground and scanned the area. Eventually he came across his abandoned shoes and trousers, right where he left them. Making his way over, he picked up the slacks and rooted through the pockets, smiling as he pulled from them a crumpled piece of paper and a pencil. That piping from the toilet hadn’t been the only thing Henry had taken with him when he’d escaped his  _ prison _ .

The man was an artist at heart, and who was to say he wouldn’t have some other time when he wanted to doodle as a means to kill time. Back then, he believed anything could be possible in the defunct studio.

Henry gave himself a mental pat on the back for thinking ahead  _ (though he hadn’t meant to) _ when he’d taken the paper and pencil. He’d honestly thought he’d only use it to draw more silly cartoons as a means to kill time. But now? It’d come of some use. Drawing some pentagram as a reminder for later. But why he would need to keep it fresh in his head, he still couldn’t figure that out. Nagging feelings were like that, he supposed. There to  _ warn _ you that something may be necessary, but it could be ages before one figured out why.

“What drew you in the first place?”

Henry wondered aloud, sitting again by the pentagram as he started to recreate it on paper. Had the ink demon drawn the original? Was that possible? Well, duh, Henry, it had to be. The thing had proven to be more sentient than the old animator had once believed. It had spoken. It had stated  _ dreams _ it had, though in an odd sort of way. And more importantly it talked about a  **PROMISE** . One that had been made between it and Joey.

**_‘That promise sure as Hell backfired on me.’_ **

“Where are you?”

Now Henry was growing annoyed, shouting out as he turned from his doodled pentagram and eyed his surroundings. The damn demon was a lumbering wall of ink! How was it still alluding him? Henry knew he wouldn’t be able to do much to it. He could barely put a scratch on the thing when he’d still been human!

But that didn’t matter, because he’d have to face the demon again eventually. And now seemed like a more sure time than ever.

**_‘Henry, you’re supposed to be smart. That’s what Joey said. Yet you’re provin’ to be a big ol’ idiot right now.’_ **

Eyes frantically looked around, going so far as to walk between glass cages. Even in some. Waiting for the demon to appear and make an attempt to startle him. But not again. It wouldn’t be like the throne room. 

“Why did you do this to me? You said Joey promised you something. What did he-”

**_‘He promised me YOU, ya dunce!’_ **

The voice shot through Henry’s head so hard that it gave him a headache. Which he hadn’t thought would be possible. Ink creatures didn’t have brains right? Oh, screw it. His current anatomy wasn’t a problem. What  **WAS** a problem was the fact the demon’s voice had reverberated through Henry’s head. Almost as if the thing was standing right next to him, but it wasn’t. No matter where the animator looked, there was no sign of a demon.

**_‘And look what that schmuck’s promise got me! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be hightailed out of here. Last time I ever trust that supernatural garbage.’_ **

Nothing was making sense anymore. The demon’s voice grew clearer and clearer, and the more it did, the more it gave Henry room to pause as pain surged through his head. It felt as if his  _ skull _ were being torn apart. As if two opposing forces were fighting for dominance. But one was weaker than the other and just couldn’t break the surface. But if it kept trying…

“Wait, are you…?” Oh, God, please no. The creature had to be somewhere around him. Above his head? No. Below him? No. It was nowhere to be seen and yet Henry could hear it clear as day. Joey had offered it something - he had offered it Henry. But the demon said something was wrong. Something was out of place.

**_‘Well someone finally caught up to speed.’_ **

They were sharing the same body. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of Henry’s mind,  _ Bendy _ was there. The demon left floating around as just a voice. Still left as an incomplete cartoon as Henry’s soul fought it. As it prevented the demon from overtaking it and simply wiping the existence of Henry away.

The thing only needed his soul after all. It didn't need anything else. But it couldn’t even get that. And instead was stuck sharing a perfect model body of what it wanted to be with the old animator. Lovely, Henry wasn’t sure who was suffering more.

**_‘Me. It’s me. I’m suffering.’_ **

“Stop reading my thoughts!”

**_‘Kinda hard when I can hear them clear as day in here. Just don’t think about anythin’ dirty.’_ **

He heard the laughter of the demon bouncing off the sides of his head. Henry clenched his teeth and his fists. Trying to block out the sound but to no avail. So what? Joey had made the decision to make Henry the pack mule for his little science project? To carry the demon on his back. Or was what happened an anomaly? Some sort of accident that neither the demon nor Joey had anticipated.

**_‘I can tell ya I thought once that ritual nonsense was over, I’d be cruisin’ out of here lookin’ like a true devil darlin’. And yet, I’m stuck with you. Joey owes me for this. Finally hands me over a soul and this happens.’_ **

“There were other workers here. And clearly Joey had used them try and create...what ever else was going on here. Why didn’t he use them for you?”

Talking to the demon now, nice. But what other choice did he have? And so long as the demon was subdued in his head, Henry could at least interrogate it. Perhaps drag answers out of the creature and avoid having to seek them out later.

**_‘Beats me, old timer. I was still a mindless, sad little devil back than. Locked away from the world. Truly tragic.’_ **

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t weep for you.”

Henry rolled his eyes before he strode down the sections of the lairs corridor. Grabbing what ever he could that looked as if it would fit well to make a raft. He still had that plan in mind after all. The fact he had some extra luggage stowed away in his mind didn’t change that. But it certainly would make trying to convince Alice and Tom a  **HELL** of a lot harder.

**_‘Still plannin’ to go find those chumps? Are you tryin’ to get us killed? Maybe if you let me take the wheel for a little bit I can-’_ **

_ ‘ _ **NO!** _ ’ _

It was a hard mental command, one that oddly enough silenced the demon, for now. The thing was no doubt still trying to get used to sharing a body, on top of accepting the fact it wasn’t the one in control and couldn’t force itself to be either. It was weak, which was a good sign. Henry needed it to stay that way until he could find help. Lest the demon somehow grow stronger while the old animator dilly dallied. 

Then, well, Henry wasn’t sure what he would do. He just knew he didn’t plan to be stuck as the back seat driver to some inky gremlin. He expected the demon to make some comment about the insult, but there was still silence. Giving Henry the opportunity to collect his scraps in peace. Bits of boards and piping. He could only  **BARELY** carry two of each before his arms were full. The draw backs of now being a short little nub with just as short arms.

He’d have to go back to the entrance of the lair and pile everything there. The trip would take some time. And the longer he took, the farther Alice and Tom would get. He’d have to go on the  _ hunt _ for them, which would at least give the old animator some time to figure out just what he wanted to say. He knew he couldn’t tell them he was sharing a body with the ink demon. That would end the discussion then and there with Tom shoving an axe deep into his head.

Henry would have to lie. He  **HATED** that. Those two toons had been his only saving grace in the studio, save for the original Boris. Taking their trust of him and using it against them. Lying about just what had really happened. He knew it was a decision between life and death and gaining his companions back, but it didn’t stop him from feeling any less guilty.

Henry let his mind slip into silence after that. Focusing on the  **NOW** of the situation and collecting the supplies he needed. Back and forth between the entrance and the various corridors. He couldn’t tell time down there, seeing as no working clocks hung from the walls, but a good thirty minutes had probably passed by the time he was done. Left with boards and pipes that could hopefully been strewn together for a raft. Now the question was...how was he going to put it all together?

He didn’t have any thread or rope or really...anything. Damn, he would have even taken glue if it meant fastening the pieces of scraps together! Henry tried to think through all the corridors he walked through, the throne room...wait...the  **THRONE** room!

He had been meaning to go back there! Before he’d gotten distracted by the pentagram and his  _ unwanted _ guest. Perhaps there was string or some other material in there. But more importantly, there might be answers. That tape recorder was still just laying in wait. And no demon was going to burst out from behind the throne and stop him now.

**_‘What are you doin’?’_ **

_ Henry needed to learn to shut his mouth. Or brain. Or whatever. _

“Finding a way out of here.”

**_‘With all that junk?’_ **

Henry’s eyes shifted toward the junk pile waiting at the entrance of the lair. He hadn’t wanted to look there, his eyes had just gone to the pile automatically. The old animator tried to wave that thought aside. It was no doubt just an action brought upon by the demon wondering about the pile. That was all.  _ That was all. _

“It’s for a raft.” Henry had to force himself to retreat back farther into the lair. It was odd as he walked. Feeling as if he were traversing through mud. Eventually he felt an aching in his chest and had to stop. His legs weak, almost as if they had been exhausted to their limits. Or were being forced back “Are you...are  **YOU** doing that?”

**_‘Doin’ what?’_ **

The demon’s tone was nothing short of condescending. Damn it! Henry had thought he had more time. He’d thought the thing to still be too weak to force anything out besides a few words through Henry’s head. But he was starting to lose ground. He didn’t want to think of what would happen if the demon gained full control. If it was able to use  **HENRY’S** body to attack Alice and Tom.

**_‘Technically, its MY body. Unless you’ve always been a handsome little devil and just never told me, old timer.’_ **

“Stop. Reading. My. Thoughts.”

**_‘I. Can’t.’_ **

It was a game of going back and forth. Ending in a stalemate as Henry’s legs refused to move, despite the fact he was doing his best to will them forward. But that brought the realization of something else, the demon wasn’t moving him either. The pair just remained standing by a wall near the entrance to the lair. Henry was waiting for the demon to make some move. To surge them forward. But there was nothing.

“Well?”

**_‘Well what?’_ **

Jesus Christ.

“Are you going to do something or not? Or are you planning on just standing here for all eternity? That wouldn’t be fun for me but I can’t imagine it is for you either.”

**_‘Uh…’_ **

The voice grew silent for a moment, but Henry didn’t regain any control of his legs. They were still tensed and unmoving. The demon had been able to stop him but could it not...move him?

**_‘Shut up. I can make us walk.’_ **

“Then do it.”

It probably wasn’t wise to  _ egg on _ a demon that was trying to hijack his body, but Henry was growing impatient. And he was fairly confident that the demon  **COULDN’T** move him. The thing could speak and annoy the Hell out of Henry. It could stop him in his tracks. But it couldn’t do more beyond that. Troublesome and cause for concern, but it being unable to move meant it couldn’t hurt anyone.

Unless it just planned to stop them dead center in a hall and cause someone to trip. Might make for a sprained ankle. If ink creatures could even suffer that much.

**_‘I can’t make us walk.’_ **

“Oh no!”

**_‘Shaddup!’_ **

Despite his situation, Henry let out a soft chuckle. Arguing with a demon that had been trying to kill him had to be the weirdest situation he’d ever been in. And his time in the studio recently had proven to be a special brand of weird. But there was no more lamenting on that. Or feeling sorry for the situation he’d been placed in. Anger was still ripe and raring to go in the pit of his stomach. But there was also something  _ amusing _ about the fact that the demon was just as screwed as he was.

“Give me back my legs so I can finish the raft.”

And go to the throne room. But Henry made sure not to focus on that, lest the demon catch on and refuse to move at all. Though the animator didn’t think that would last very long.

**_‘You ain’t gonna find anythin’ to make your boat. What? You think I got everything of convenience here, pal?’_ **

Maybe. If he’d just let Henry move and look around! The demon couldn’t know of everything in his lair, seeing as it was doubtful the thing was hardly ever there. What with it having been stalking Henry around the studio for the better part of a few days.

**_‘I got a better idea. The ink stain on the wall. Touch it.’_ **

Henry looked to his left with a perplexed look. Sure enough, there was a rather large blot of ink staining the wall. It didn’t look fresh, but most of it wasn’t dry either. The center of the stain had relatively wet ink, almost as if something had come through it and left the  _ puddle _ there. 

“Are you trying to kill us both?”

**_‘What? No, ya schumuck! I can travel through that stuff. I’ll get us out of here and sailin’ through the studio way faster than you can tryin’ to build a raft.’_ **

“That’s not how that works.” So he thought. Wasn’t touching the ink bad? From how Alice had made it sound  _ (both the corrupt and good one) _ touching the ink made it suck you back in. Made you one of the Searchers again. It was cause for concern, the feeling slowly being overwritten by one of annoyance. Henry knew that secondary feeling was  **NOT** coming from him.

**_‘Don’t believe your girlfriend on all that. It doesn’t work that way with me. I’m a special case.’_ **

Henry didn’t bother to comment on the girlfriend part “Not anymore. How do you know this change,” He gestured to what had become of his body “Hasn’t taken that from you. We touch that and we could end up like the others. Or you could go back to what ever you were before.”

The annoyance was gone. But so was Henry’s concern. It was now replaced by a shared feeling -  **_FEAR._ **

The animator didn’t think the demon had the capacity for such an emotion. But Henry might have struck a chord with his last line. The creature didn’t want to be eaten by the ink either. No matter how  _ on top _ of the world it thought it was. No matter what immunity's it thought it had. There was always the chance that such things had been taken from it. 

Joey had given the demon its wish for a soul, but at what cost?

**_‘Ya gotta do it.’_ ** The demon finally spoke. Resolve in its tone. The confidence from before slowly edging its way back into the thing’s tone  **_‘How else ya gonna get out of here, genius?’_ **

Maybe it was better they didn’t leave. After all, the demon was slowly gaining some form of control. Henry didn’t know how long he could fight it for. If he would be able to even fight it. Wouldn’t it be better to just stay hidden in the lair? At least for the protection of Alice, Tom and anyone else still sentient in the studio. It would cost Henry answers. Cost him the possibility of ever hoping to leave the studio and return home. But-

**_‘Ya ain’t gonna do it? Fine, coward! I’ll take the lead!’_ **

At first, nothing happened. Henry didn’t expect it to. The demon had only been able to hold his legs in place so far. An no amount of it straining and cursing around in Henry’s head was suddenly going to make it gain any more control than it was already allotted. So instead, they waited. The animator crossing his arms as the demon no doubt made an attempt to move one of them. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Or me. Or both of us.”

**_‘We. Are. LEAVING!’_ **

Henry’s left arm shot up. So fast and with such force that the animator nearly stumbled, had his legs not been held in place, he might have fallen. He looked up at his upraised arm in alarm. The arm twitching as he tried to bring it back down, nearly going into a spasm as two opposing forces worked to try and move it.

“STOP!”

**_‘LEAVING!’_ **

The battle for the arm raged on. Henry going so far as to use his free hand to try and force the other one back down. But it was as if someone had placed a shackle and chain on his left arm to keep it held in place. The effort to move it growing to be incredibly exhausting. So much so that Henry momentarily lost control. His left hand ignoring any pleas from him as it bent to the demon’s will and touched the ink stain on the wall. Ink consuming the hand almost immediately. Slowly but surely pulling Henry in.

**_‘And we are OUTTA here!’_ **

\----------

_ People stood around his desk, laughing and making comments. It was enough to bring a rather large smile to Henry’s face. They all should really be working. There was a close deadline to meet. But with the stress of the workload weighing on them all, Henry had thought they could use a good laugh.  _

_ At first he’d only meant for it to be shared with his fellow animators. They all had a dark and dirty sense of humor. Most of them were young adults after all and that sort of thing just appealed to them. As it did to Henry some times as well. They all got a kick out of seeing the rather crude drawing of Bendy and Alice Angel.  _

_ But eventually word spread to some neighboring departments. And a few others came to poke fun at make jokes. _

_ “Henry! You vulgar man you!” _

_ The group laughed, Henry did as well. Letting the others pass the drawing around and make comments. Some of his fellow animators went along with it as well and come up with their own drawings that were also being passed from hand to hand. The animator department full of laughter as people bustled in to see what all the commotion was about. _

_ “You better hope Joey doesn’t see any of these.” _

_ Henry looked to his right and saw Sammy leaning against his desk. The man was looking at one of the drawings that was being passed around. Scowling before tossing it along to the next willing person. Ah, could nothing get the music director to smile? _

_ “It’s just a bit of fun. No harm in it. Not like any of these drawings will see the light of day. We’d have mothers up in arms if they did.” _

**_THAT_ ** _ got a chuckle from Sammy. Something that Henry could occasionally manage to do, and without even trying!  _

_ “Just don’t let Joey see them,” Sammy repeated “Otherwise-” _

_ The talking and laughter came to a halt. Papers were no longer being shuffled around. Out of the corner of his eye, Henry could see someone crumbling up one of the drawings and tossing it in a desk drawer. No one looked to be in a jovial mood anymore. All simply frozen in place. _

_ “Now,” Joey smiled as he stood in the door way “What do we have going on in here?” _

\----------

“I hate you.”

**_‘Oh boo hoo.’_ **

Henry couldn’t move. Laying on the floor and forced to just stare up at the ceiling. Not even the demon could muster up the energy it had before to force him up. No doubt it had exhausted itself just by trying to move Henry’s arm. Which was, oddly a comfort. Granted, the thing could move him if it wanted to. But it took  **EFFORT** . And if Henry tried hard enough, he could probably stop it. 

Hopefully.

“That was stupid,” He had the tone as if he were scolding one of his grandchildren. But thats how the demon acted. Like a damn child! “You didn’t know if we’d stay...solid. You didn’t know-”

**_‘Relax, old timer. Now we know! And we’re out of that dingy old place I USED to call home. Now we’re uh...hmm...try and turn your head.’_ **

It took all of his effort, but Henry managed to look to his left. In that direction was a band stand and a piano. Forcing himself to look to his right, he saw more band stands and chairs. With a few other assorted instruments strewn throughout. The Music Department. They had managed to come all the way back  **HERE?**

The animator let out a frustrated groan. The Music Department was the last place he wanted to be. For starters, it was so far away from where they had been. There was no way of finding Alice and Tom, those two were deep in the studio’s underbelly. On top of the fact the department carried bad memories for him. Being knocked out with a dustpan and almost sacrificed to some make believe god.

**_‘You would have made a nice sacrifice, old timer.’_ **

“Shut up.”

It took a few more minutes, ones that were thankfully taken in silence, but eventually Henry gained the strength to sit up. Arms barely able to hold him into a sitting position. His left one ached, mentally cursing at the demon for that little  _ gift _ . His legs were no better. Though the ache there was more dull and slowly starting to dissolve. Hopefully meaning that Henry could walk soon.

Eyes scanned the area for any sort of weapon, he’d need one once he regained more of his functionality. He remembered that the Music Department, as well as those surrounding it, had been covered with Searchers. Now whether they would attack Henry in his current state was another story. Seeing as the Lost Ones kept referring to him as  _ Lord _ , and the Searchers some what followed the same cultish bull shit, surely they would see him in the same light?

Henry didn’t want to take that chance. 

The only  _ weapon _ his eyes fell upon was the old dustpan. The one that had been used to knock him out before. That would work, for now. At least until he found an axe or pipe. Glancing around more, his gaze landed on something else too. It was small, and had he not been carefully examining the area, he would have missed it. But above the piano was a small pentagram. It looked different from the ones in the hallway. Similar to the one back in the lair but with little differences to certain drawings in the center.

He...couldn’t recall that being there before. Perhaps he’d just missed it the first time? Surely that had to be it. In between trying to open Sammy’s sanctuary and avoid the Searchers, it would have been easy to overlook.

Slowly, Henry used his right hand to reach into his breast pocket. His arms were shaking less but it still took a considerable amount of effort to pull the scrap of paper and pencil from his pocket. He’d stowed it in there shortly after drawing the pentagram back in the lair. And for good reason too. Just as he’d been compelled to draw that one, he was just as much compelled to do the same for the one above the piano. Flipping the paper to the opposite side and carefully sketching out the pentagram.

**_‘What are you doing?’_ **

“Drawing.”

**_‘Never would have guessed. You really wastin’ our time drawin’ a picture? Not even a good one.’_ **

Henry ignored the demon. Finishing up his doodle before he tucked his pencil and paper back in his breast pocket. Maybe the pentagrams really didn’t mean anything. Maybe his gut was just throwing him for a loop. But, it didn’t hurt to have the designs, just in case. 

“Okay, now-”

“ _ My Lord?” _

Henry froze at the voice. That familiar voice. The voice of someone who was meant to be  **DEAD** . Fear crept up his spine. He could tell yet again it was a shared emotion, though he was feeling it more than the demon. Eyes falling to the doorway of the room. Looking at the looming figure in the overalls and Bendy mask. An axe held at the ready.

Standing there was Sammy Lawrence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank those who left comments/kudos on the first chapter! It really gave me the push to continue this story and really made me feel welcomed back into writing fic. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter just as much!


	3. Can I Get An Amen?

_ He was vaguely aware of Sammy loitering by the doorway. Not that Henry paid him much mind as he continued to toss items into boxes. Mumbling to himself as he cleared his desk of pencils, drawings and dirty coffee mugs. His fellow animators had left for the day, leaving the eldest of them to his business. Henry had to wonder how they would all react when they came in the next day and saw his desk completely devoid of anything. He honestly felt bad about leaving them. They were a good group. _

_ But he’d had his fill of Joey Drew. _

_ “You’re leaving.” Sammy finally spoke up from his spot in the doorway. His statement was enough to make Henry roll his eyes, but still he kept his back to the other man. _

_ “Looks that way doesn’t it?”  _

_ He debated how many of the drawings and doodles he should take back home. Those stupid little cartoons didn’t seem to bring him joy anymore. Glancing over the various model sheets of the characters he had helped create. With a sigh, Henry removed them from his desk, and some from his box, and placed them onto Morris’ desk. His fellow animator would need them once he took up Henry’s old position as lead animator. _

_ “You narrowly avoid the war and  _ **_NOW_ ** _ you’re just going to up and leave your job?” The music director spoke up. Henry didn’t even have to look at him to know the man held a scowl on his face “What happened at that meeting between you and Joey?” _

_ “That’s absolutely none of your business.” _

_ It was no ones business. Only he and Joey’s. Henry had just barely gotten out of the draft by the skin of his teeth. From a damn technicality that barred him from fighting for his country. He had felt guilty over being relieved at first. But then he remembered he had a wife to return to. Remembered that he would have to leave her side and make her worry for months on end over whether he was dead or alive. _

_ He could stay with her. And their baby, who would be coming into the world in a few short weeks. _

_ Henry should have been  _ **_HAPPY_ ** _. He should have been mentally celebrating. But he hadn’t been able to. Once Joey had found out that he had avoided the draft, it had all gone downhill from there. His boss had asked when he could return to work. _

_ As soon as possible, Henry had said, like the fool he was. _

_ Then it became a conversation of hours. Linda would be having the baby soon! He couldn’t be at the studio all night. He couldn’t work a week straight without going home. It wasn’t fair to him nor his wife. And soon it wouldn’t be fair to their child. But what did Joey care about that? He didn’t. Because he wanted productivity. The man himself had no wife or children to worry about, he didn’t understand just why his employees put their families before their work. _

_ That all had led to such a lengthy fight. So much shouting that Henry was sure that everyone in the studio had heard them. But no one had dared to say anything when Henry had left their boss’s office and stormed to his work station. They had all looked downcast. Some rushing to leave. All of them ignoring Joey’s shouts for Henry to get back in his office. _

_ “You don’t have to work here either, you know. You can leave with me.” _

_ Finally, Henry turned back to his coworker. Sammy’s look of confusion and shock was amusing to see. Almost as if the other man couldn’t believe just what the animator was suggesting. _

_ “You constantly complain about this place,” Henry went on, once it seemed as if Sammy wasn’t going to respond “You hate the hours. The working conditions. You hate just about everything about it. Yet you still stick around. You could get out of here, Sammy. Just like I am. Cartoons are a  _ **_BOOMING_ ** _ business right now. I can find work and so can you. If you want to still work in cartoons that is.” _

_ Honestly, he saw the music director working in musical theater rather than furthering his career with tunes for animation. Just as cartoons were a hopping business, so was theater. They’d both go on a joint job hunt, no matter what Sammy chose to pursue. Henry wasn’t just going to leave him behind after suggesting he quit alongside him. _

_ “I can’t just leave like you. I still have things to do before the next deadline. I still have-” _

_ “I had things to finish too,” Henry interrupted “And now I’m putting those things in Morris’ hands.” _

_ Sammy’s scowl returned to his face “You mean you’re dropping the work onto someone else.” _

_ Ouch. But not wrong. Now that Henry thought about it, he really was just leaving his old team high and dry. And that was enough to bring some guilt into his heart. But not enough to make him reconsider. He’d just have to hope the others would understand and forgive him. If not, well, Henry doubted he would ever see any of them again anyway. _

_ “Come with me. Don’t come with me. That’s up to you.” Henry returned to putting the last of his items in his box. Desk now empty of anything on it. His packing job was complete. All that was left was to say goodbye to the few people he’d see while walking out. Everyone else? Well, he didn’t want to run the risk of running into Joey and getting into some loud spat in the hall. They’d already caused enough of a scene. And how much respect had Joey lost in that day alone just from what had been shouted from behind closed doors? How much had  _ **_HENRY_ ** _ lost? _

_ Silence fell into the room as the animator grabbed his two boxes of items and held them under his arms. He stood in front of Sammy, signalling for the other to step aside. He was through talking to the other. He was through with that blasted studio. _

_ “I’ll think about it.” Sammy stated, breaking the silence after a long moment. He finally stepped aside so that Henry could leave. The words and action caused a small smile to come to the animator’s face. Putting down his boxes momentarily so he could dig a piece of paper out as well as a pencil. The music director watched him with a returned look of confusion. At least up until Henry handed him a slip of paper with a few numbers scrawled across. _

_ “My number. For when you’re done thinking about it. Don’t keep me waiting forever on you, all right?” _

\----------

Henry had little energy to move. His arms and legs were still shaking. No doubt a side effect of having used the ink to travel through the studio. Though he hadn’t done it himself, the experience had exhausted his body. He would have just laid on the floor and built up his strength if it hadn’t been for the unexpected appearance of someone who was meant to be  **DEAD.**

Sammy still stood in the doorway. Hand gripped tightly around the axe he held in his right hand. Head tilted to one side. Almost as if he were curious over Henry’s arrival. Why wasn’t he swinging? Last time they’d seen each other, Sammy had gone on shouting about  **BETRAYAL** and being  **ABANDONED** . He had nearly taken Henry’s head off a few times during that fight! 

“How...how…?”

The old animator couldn’t even form the words. For the love of God, he’d  **SEEN** Tom thrust an axe into the back of Sammy’s head! He’d seen the other’s supposedly lifeless corpse fall to the ground and practically disperse. How in the world was he still alive?

**_‘Damn. That nut can regenerate like a champ.’_ **

“Regen...regen…?”

**_‘Regenerate. Use your words, Henry. It didn’t take him long to come back from that axe hit. I tore him to pieces at one point but he even came back from that pretty fast. The wonders of havin’ faith, I guess!’_ **

The demon laughed, the sound bouncing off every side of Henry’s skull. But he could tell the demon was just as uneasy as he was. Hiding behind humor to try and mask the fact it was unnerved by the appearance of the prophet. Said prophet who just continued to stand there and stare.

Why hadn’t Henry thought of it sooner? Everything there, every  **ONE** , they were all made of ink. They weren’t human anymore. They wouldn’t die in the same way that he could, if he were still human at least. Could any of them even die? Or would they just  _ regenerate _ each time? Slowly coming back to life through the power of the tainted ink that filled the studio. Henry felt a wall of cold dread hitting him. Wondering if that would be his fate now. He was just like all of them after all. A  _ creature _ made of ink. Some _ thing _ that wouldn’t die no matter how many fatal blows he took.

**_‘These are the most pessimistic thoughts I have ever had the pleasure of hearin’. Hey, old timer, do you maybe wanna lighten up a little?’_ **

The demon was promptly ignored. Henry still having his eyes glued to the figure looming by the door. Still filled with thoughts of not being able to die.  _ Being torn to pieces. An axe through his head.  _ Sammy had  _ survived _ each blow. And how many before those instances? How could the inky man even continue to walk and utter words when he’d been seemingly killed numerous times before? It would have driven Henry  **MAD!**

And perhaps...it did just that to Sammy. Perhaps he had perished numerous times before. Long before Henry had even come by the studio. A reason to why the music director now worshiped a cartoon character that he once had despised making music for.

“I...had always hoped to see you roaming these hallowed halls. Only once before had you been here...but that was so long ago. You were so  **ANGRY** at me back then.”  Sammy spoke and his voice sent another shiver up Henry’s spine. Back then? Did he mean when he’d held the animator captive and had tried to sacrifice him? 

“But...I understand. It was meant as enlightenment. A way for you to show me that you had plans for the one I had hoped to offer you in sacrifice. I feared you wished to make him your true prophet. I feared you would leave me in the dark and throw away my gospel.”

The threshold was crossed. Sammy stepped further into the room. Making slow but eager steps toward Henry. The animator still hadn’t moved from his spot in the center of the room. Having been visibly shaken by the other’s appearance as well as weakened from the jump through the ink. But now he had to move. He had to get away. Sammy was no longer the music director Henry once knew. He was a crazed man, no doubt driven that way due to years of being consumed by the toxic ink that Joey had created.

At any moment the other could lift that axe and bring it down on Henry’s head. There would be no one there to stop him now. Henry was too weak  _ (and too shrunken)  _ to fight. And there would be no Tom to come from the shadows and sneak up from behind. Not even the ink demon had anything snarky to say as the music director grew closer. Fear and worry becoming a shared emotion for the pair.

It was almost funny. Henry didn’t think the demon knew fear. But perhaps now that it wasn’t a lumbering mass of ink that could intimidate the whole studio - it was able to realize how  **FRAGILE** being  _ on model _ could make it.  **HAD** made it.

“But you would not abandon me again. Nor your other faithful sheep. That one you had spared. He  **BETRAYED** you!  **ABANDONED** you! The Lord does not make mistakes but the sort of mockery that  _ chosen one _ had done to your image...”

There it was. Now the crazy was coming out even more. Now the rage was starting to seep out. The tension was starting to rise. Of course Sammy didn’t realize just who he was staring down. Sure, the ink demon was there, the very thing the music director now worshipped. But so was Henry, the one person Sammy seemed to despise above all else.

“Stay...stay back…!”

**_‘Yeah! That’ll stop a nut job! Get up, you schmuck!’_ **

That was the smartest thing he’d heard all day. Scrambling to try and create a gap between himself and the music director. But it was no use, trying to rise brought him back down to the floor. His legs a shaking mess, unable to bear what little weight Henry now possessed. Thus he was forced to practically  _ crawl _ away. Using what little strength was in his arms to force himself backwards. Though it was a vain effort. Two scoots back would be a distance easily closed by one step from Sammy.

Henry was finding it harder to breath. Not just because his shirt collar was digging into his lack of a neck  _ (he really didn’t understand how that worked) _ . But also because he was  **PANICKING** . Though he’d been through so much in that damn studio. Though he’d witnessed things that were the product of nightmares,  **NOW** was the time he had chosen to panic. Because he was defenseless.

He wasn’t at his full height nor his full strength. He didn’t have an axe to hold up over his head and bring down upon attacking ink creatures. He had  **NOTHING** . All he was now was a short little demon. A product he’d helped create. And soon enough, he’d experience his first death and get to see just what happened when something made of ink got to  _ die. _

“Stay back!” He tried again, and surprisingly, the music director came to a halt. Having heard Henry’s more forceful shout. Cocking his head to the side. If Henry didn’t know any better, he’d say Sammy was  **SHOCKED** . Though it was hard to tell what with the man wearing the stupid mask over his face. Not that anything underneath it would give much of an expression either.

“You...you spoke. You...you have changed form.”

**_‘Did he really just NOW notice??’_ **

_ ‘Shut up.’ _

Henry didn’t dare respond to the prophet’s observations. The other’s movement had come to a stop, but for how long? Would the fact that now he’d noticed that the ink demon was no longer a huge mass of ink make him lash out? After all, Sammy had spent years worshipping something that looked like an off brand horror model of Bendy. And everyone back in the day, when the studio was still prosperous, knew that their cartoon creation didn’t speak. 

Would all the sudden blows just be too much for Sammy. Would he think that his  _ Lord _ was not in front of him? Think Henry to be an imposter? Well, he technically was, but Sammy having access to that knowledge would not bode very well for Henry.

“You have found peace.”

The words came as a surprise to the old animator. As did the fact that Sammy sunk down to his knees and bowed his head. So close that he was able to reach out and grasp Henry’s ankles. The action caused Henry to jump, and had he been able to, he would have been on his feet and out the door. But he could not escape the music director’s grasp. Even as he gave a few tugs, the other’s grip only seemed to tighten.

“You have become your ideal image. And here I am...able to gaze upon the true face of my Lord. You grace me not only with your presence...but also this. Your humble prophet is grateful. Honored.”

Sammy started to utter a few things under his breath after that. They almost sounded like...scriptures. But ones heavily edited. Ones meant to reference the ink demon rather than any true God.

**_‘I wanna leave.’_ **

_ ‘You’re scared.’ _

**_‘Shut up! YOU’RE scared. I’m just creeped out. Can’t even rip this guys head off again to shut him up. Doesn’t this idiot know spoutin’ that bible junk actually HURTS?’_ **

Oh. Oh it did.

Henry hadn’t realized it before, but now that it was pointed out, he could feel it. A burning sensation to his ankles, slowly traveling it’s way up his legs. The more Sammy uttered, the more it started to hurt. Like being burned with a hot iron. Or caught in the flames of a burning building. He saw Sammy’s own body bubbling as well, though the prophet seemed to pay it no mind. Almost as if he were used to the feeling of being  _ boiled _ alive.

Well, he may be used to it. But Henry was not. And it was only a few seconds in that he could no longer take it and cried out in pain.

“Sammy! Stop!  **_STOP!_ ** ”

The room fell silent. No utterings of scripture. No painful screams. Henry’s legs still ached, now from the combined effort of his weakness and the bubbling. Leaving him to wonder if he’d be able to walk any time soon. Or if he’d just have to crawl everywhere for the time being. That certainly would make it difficult to stop any Searchers from causing him harm.

“You...you know of my name, my Lord? The old name that I threw away when I devoted my life to you.”

There was such a raw combination of joy and shock in the other’s voice. It made Henry pity him. Made him pity  **EVERYONE** who had been stuck in the studio and forced to become...what ever they were now. Just the fact that one of them had been so elated to hear his own name. Would anyone else there react the same way? Would they even  **REMEMBER** their names?

And even if they did, what would Henry be able to do with that information? Hearing his name hadn’t snapped Sammy out of his madness. It most certainly wouldn’t bring anyone else in the studio out of their despair. Flashbacks to that room full of crying Lost Ones, how none of them had attacked nor had any motivation to. How even addressing them hadn’t stirred anything except wailing and asking for their  _ lord _ . Or for their prophet. Or just expressing their desire to go home.

“No…no more scriptures.” The old animator found his voice again, slowly coming back to him. Though he knew the danger hadn’t passed. Eyes every so often drifting to the axe that rest at Sammy’s side. Thinking about how easily the other could snatch it up should Henry say the wrong thing. He had to choose his words carefully from there on out. Play the  _ role _ of the god that Sammy believed him to be.

“But, my Lord! Your gospel-”

“Hurts you. Erm, and me.” Careful, Henry. Careful. “I...have found peace. Like you said. Which means you’ve obviously done well to spread your... _ faith _ ...in me. You’ve passed your...your…”

Damn, he really shouldn’t have taken those cat naps during the few services he had attended with Linda. She’d always nudge him and tell him to wake up, that his soft snoring attracted the attention of those who sat nearby. The elderly would glare at him. Children would giggle. And some times the pastor would shoot him a wayward glance. Probably thinking about how Henry would go to Hell for  **DARING** to rest during the sermons.

Well, Henry felt as if he were in Hell right now. So touche, pastor. Had the old animator kept himself awake he might have had an easier time preaching some gospel nonsense to the cultist in front of him.

“ **TRIALS!** Yes, your trials. You’ve done all I’ve asked of you. Which is how I got to look like...this. Because-”

“Because of my faith!?” Sammy sounded far too pleased with himself, his grip upon Henry’s ankles seeming to tighten once more. Luckily, no more scripture was uttered. Just some other brand of crazy “Because I believed in you. Oh, I faltered. I know I did, and I begged for your forgiveness after I had been cast down and reborn for the fifth time.”

_ Fifth?? _

“And you forgave me. You looked upon this wretched soul. This desperate man. And in him you put salvation. You allowed him to follow your word and continue to spread it. Oh, the others they are starting to falter. I see it in their eyes. They worry for their prophet and more importantly their Lord. But I will set them straight.  **I** will set  **THEM** straight.”

Christ on a bike. It was so hard to see the inky man before him as once being the ornery music director of the studio. How could one man fall so far between the cracks? How could the ink change him so drastically? Others wallowed in despair. Some became...horrendous images of what they had once aspired to be. And some, well, became what ever Sammy was. A man looking for purpose and only finding it in the visage of a cartoon character he once hated.

**_‘Well, didn’t think it was possible. But I am even more creeped out than before. Can’t we just tell him to shut up and shuffle along?’_ **

_ ‘I think you would even agree, that is a stupid idea. I’m getting somewhere with him.’ _

**_‘Yeah, some new level of crazy. I already had to listen to this garbage for YEARS. I was hopin’ to finally get away from it. Or at least have a few more days of quiet before this loser came back. Honestly ‘Lord this’ and ‘Lord that’, none of those other idiots ended up like this.’_ **

Henry didn’t grace his headmate with a response. Instead focusing his attention back on the cultist before him. The other now had his head bowed, muttering some words, but luckily no scriptures. Henry’s legs still throbbed from before. Which was...welcomed and yet not. It was better than the numb feeling that he had been having since the start of becoming the little demon.

“Listen, Sammy-”

“My Lord.” A masked face gazed up at him.

“I...I need to get out of here. I have some friends,  _ followers _ , that I need to find. Some, erm, lost souls that I’m sure would benefit from your faith.”

He felt as if he were making very little sense. And he felt even bigger of a fool for the plan he was slowly developing. Henry knew he wouldn’t be able to reach Alice and Tom by himself. Not in the state he was in. He didn’t know how long it would take to regain his full strength, if he even ever would. And even if he did manage to, what then? He couldn’t fend off Searchers nor malicious Lost Ones. What weapons could he wield that wouldn’t be taller than him? He needed a guide. Someone who could do some  _ heavy lifting _ as well as fend off the other ink creatures that roamed the studio. 

He needed Sammy. He hated to say it, but he did. The other knew the Searchers and the Lost Ones. He was able to keep them at bay. And if Sammy couldn’t? Well, as horrible as it was to say, followers always sacrificed themselves for their gods, right?

**_‘Dang. Brutal. I love it.’_ **

_ ‘Shut up.’ _

“And these souls? These ones that require repentance, once they are found, what will you do after, my Lord?”

Henry hesitated at first. Trying to figure out just what to say that would draw Sammy completely in. Something that would give the prophet no reason to question Henry’s intentions. And in a moment, it hit him.

“Set you free.”

In that instant, he knew he’d said the right thing. Sammy’s hold upon his ankles loosening up before letting go entirely. The other slamming his hands together, looking ready to pray. Damn, the sheer  **EMOTION** in Sammy’s voice. As if he’d been waiting to hear those very words spoken aloud for so many, many years. And perhaps he had been.

“Yes, yes! My faith was not one to be trifled with. I knew you would do as our writings had said. I knew you would break the Creator’s lies and free us all from these inky bodies. Oh, the Angel. She tried to lead us all astray. To lead  **ME** astray. To take us into her sanctum and turn us against you. To have us sacrificed only to her. Oh, but I knew. I knew she was nothing more than a blight. A trial for me to overcome. And I have, and you reward not only me, but the flock as well.”

The Angel? The deformed Alice. Su-...no. Henry didn’t know if it was really that woman behind the reverberating voice. He wasn’t going to make assumptions. He didn’t have time to dwell on it anyway. His attention being snapped back into focus as Sammy stood to his full height, taking up his axe again and looking down upon the animator expectantly. 

“We shall find these lost souls, my Lord. I shall help them to see your grace. See that believing you is how we find our peace. How we escape this inky prison.”

Right, sure. Once they found Alice and Tom, no doubt the prophet would end up with another axe in his head. That thought made Henry feel utterly guilty. Knowing that he was no doubt leading his old  _ friend _ to his possible sixth death. Not even knowing that the other would eventually regenerate could put Henry’s mind at ease. Thus, he had to force himself not to think about it. To instead focus on the present. Focus on getting to his previous companions. The ones that were so far in the lower depths of the studio.

“First things first-”

The old animator tried to stand, legs shaking so uncontrollably that a second had not even passed before Henry found himself sprawled across the floor again. Then he would try to rise once more, and only fall as he had before. He didn’t dare try for a third time. Groaning in frustration and mentally scolding the ink demon.

**_‘Don’t put this on me. Not my fault your body is a weak noodle.’_ **

_ ‘Oh, so when something doesn’t go right, it’s  _ **_MY_ ** _ body?’ _

**_‘Well, yeah. Can’t be putting the blame on myself now can I? If you weren’t such a stubborn old goat and had jumped ship when I took your soul, we wouldn’t be in this mess, now would we? Bet I’d still be able to jump through the ink without feeling like a newborn baby right after.’_ **

His legs hurt. His head hurt. Henry just wanted to go home. Possibly stop by Joey’s house and strangle the old man for putting him in that Hell of a studio to begin with. 

“My Lord,” Sammy knelt down at the animator’s side. An inky hand was soon held out. Another hovering over Henry’s back after abandoning the axe. Oh,  **NOW** the other was hesitant to touch him? Wouldn’t keeping to those boundaries have been helpful earlier? Perhaps he wouldn’t be in the predicament he was now if Sammy hadn’t practically  _ scorched _ the animator’s legs “Will...will you allow your humble servant to assist you? You must still be growing used to your true form. I understand, my Lord. I understand.”

**_‘I really want to shove somethin’ down his throat right now.’_ **

_ ‘He’s all we have for protection. So give it a rest.’ _

Henry was hesitant himself to take the offered hand. Though he was somewhat confident that he had fooled Sammy enough into helping him, he still had  **SOME** doubts. Glancing every so often toward the axe. Thoughts of grabbing it himself and taking Sammy out with the weapon crossed through, but Henry could tell such  _ ideas _ belonged more so to the ink demon. 

In that moment, he had to attempt to put his trust in the man that saw himself as a  _ prophet _ . Or at the least, continue the charade of being the other’s savior. Just long enough to get to those he  **ACTUALLY** had trust in. It was slimy. Sleezy. The feeling of guilt still hovered over him. But it had to be done. It had to. And to repent for it, he’d give Joey Drew an extra punch to the face, for Sammy.

“Yeah. Help.” Henry uttered, finally grasping the offered hand. Sammy’s grip grew tight once the offer was accepted. Easily able to hoist Henry off the ground and onto his feet. The sudden surge caused something similar to a wave of nausea to pass through his body. Henry unable to steady himself or stop the extreme feeling of dizziness from ramming itself at him. The only reason he didn’t hit the floor yet again was due to Sammy wrapping his free arm around him. 

“My Lord, please, let this humble servant carry you. I...I have hurt you with my words of prayer. I should have known better. That was foolish of me to burn you. Please, allow me to repent by taking you to my sanctuary. You will be able to rest there.”

Henry barely managed to spare a glance over his shoulder. Eyes catching sight of a large yet slightly opened metal door. He’d been back to the other’s  _ sanctuary _ before. Nothing more than a desk and a toilet. Going back there wouldn’t get him any closer to Alice or Tom. Going there would just put him a step back. Going-

**_SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE._ **

The pair froze. Sammy stopped with his muttering. Henry stopped with his thoughts. Even the ink demon was perplexed by the sudden sound that had shot through the room. It was faint, it sounded like a scream.  **MULTIPLE** screams. The sounds growing closer and closer. How long would it be until what ever was causing them was right outside the door to the music department?

“We must go, my Lord. The flock. They...they have gotten restless since I was last returned to the inky puddles. Just as I said. Your presence might not even be enough to calm them. Not yet.”

Henry hadn’t a clue what the crazed cultist was going on about. His vision was starting to blur. Darkness starting to take over his peripheral vision. In the back of his mind, he could hear the ink demon giving protest to the idea of passing out. The damned little demon was trying to push its way into control again. But with how weak the pair were, it could do nothing more than spam Henry’s mind with curse words and demands.

**_SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE._ **

“We must go.”

It was the last thing Henry heard before he was scooped up into Sammy’s arms. Vision going completely black, but not before he saw Sammy making way toward the entrance to the  _ sanctuary _ . 

\----------

_ He never did get that call. _

_ It was...a disappointment. He had thought he’d convinced the music director to move on. To quit and branch out into bigger and better things. To get away from the horrendous working conditions that Joey Drew had put them all through. That he still  _ **_WAS_ ** _ putting them through. Surely Sammy had enough sense to realize it was time to get out of there? _

_ And perhaps he had. Perhaps he just hadn’t thought to call Henry. Once again, that would be disappointing, but the animator would understand. He would just be happy to know that Sammy had gotten  _ **_OUT_ ** _ , at the very least. He almost wanted to reach out on his own and follow up. _

_ But ah, those thoughts had been quickly stomped down. It was doubtful the music director wanted an old coworker hovering over him and demanding to know what he’d been up to. If Sammy hadn’t left the studio, would he think Henry’s checking up was a means of trying to pressure him? Ugh, there was too many variables. The curiosity was there but the thought of the repercussions was holding him back. _

_ “Forget something?”  _

_ Linda stood at the doorway. One hand on her hip, the other held a plate. Oh, crap. He’d forgotten to come up for dinner again hadn’t he? Judging by the full plate of food that his wife was holding out for him, the answer was  _ **_YES_ ** _. Henry could do nothing more than give a nervous smile. Pregnant wives could be intimidating. _

_ “You’re hopeless.” Linda sighed, strolling over to stand at the side of Henry’s desk. Plate set down upon the only empty spot available. Her eyes darted from drawing to drawing, as they always did. Henry was grateful that his new job allowed for him to bring his work home with him, and relieved that deadlines were not so tight. It gave him more time to spend with his wife. When he...actually remembered to step away from his desk. Now that he had few limitations and less stress, Henry’s motivation in regards to animation had  _ **_SKYROCKETED!_ **

_ “And yet you married me. So clearly I am doing something right.” _

_ “It must be the face. I’ve always been attracted to a man whose one eye is bigger than the other.” _

_ “Wait, which eye?” _

_ Linda let out a laugh. The sound made Henry smile, as it always did. God, it was so nice to be able to hear it again. To not just have to  _ **_THINK_ ** _ about the sound of his wife’s laughter, her voice. It was so nice to not have to wonder when would be the next time he’d see her again. To not have paranoia raging throughout him at the thought of her leaving because he wasn’t there enough. _

_ “They have you on background duty this week?” Linda asked, shuffling through the drawings that were sprawled out across the desk top “These trees look awful.” _

_ “Well it’s a rough draft.” _

_ “Eat your food.” She did not return the drawings. Instead she took up a few more into her hands. Practically clearing Henry’s desk in one swoop. Her signal was as clear as day - eat or the drawings wouldn’t be returned. The animator had no choice but to oblige. Pulling the plate closer and immediately starting to stuff his face.  _

_ “Still no call from Sammy?” _

_ The sudden question had caught him so off guard, that Henry had almost choked. Taking a few seconds to regain composure before he looked up to his wife with a frown and a shake of his head “No. I figured he’s still there or he just didn’t bother to tell me he quit.” _

_ Henry shrugged, trying to feign indifference. But he knew he couldn’t get anything passed Linda. She was as sharp as a thumbtack. The deepening frown across her face a clear sign that she knew her husband was disappointed with a lack of response from his old coworker. Henry thought she was going to push the subject, but she did not. Sensing that though her husband wasn’t pleased with the situation, he also didn’t want to talk about it. _

_ “Okay. Okay.” _

_ Linda placed the drawings back upon the desk, far from Henry’s plate so that the animator wouldn’t stain his work with his flying food -  _ **_AGAIN._ **

_ “Try not to work too late tonight, champ,” She leaned down and placed a kiss atop Henry’s head “I love you.” _

\----------

Her voice was fading from his mind. And that  **TERRIFIED** him.

He had woken up to a bright light. Having to squint as he opened his eyes and saw the swinging light above him. It took him a few more moments to gain enough strength to turn his head and take in his surroundings. He was on a cot, something he didn’t remember being in the sanctuary the last time he’d been there. Sammy must have dragged it in specifically for Henry. Or more so for his  _ Lord _ .

The desk was still in the corner. That random toilet was still next to it. Seriously, why was  **THAT** there? But other than those few pieces of furniture, there wasn’t much else added to the little room. Sammy most likely didn’t have much chance to use his private room in between his crazed worshipping and his dying. 

Speaking of the music director, he was nowhere in sight.

**_‘Thank the Lord. Which means thank ME!’_ **

“Why are you up?”

**_‘Because you’re up.’_ **

Henry groaned. It was nice not having the crazed cultist there to spout some random made up gospel. But it would have been nicer not to have the ink demon making random comments. Just one moment of peace, that was all Henry wanted. One moment to sit there and try to recall  **HER** voice. And only her’s. Before the ink made him forget it.

**_‘Who are we thinkin’ about?’_ **

“ **WE** aren’t thinking of anyone.  **I’M** thinking of someone.”

Someone whose face was starting to grow fuzzy too. No, no, if he concentrated, he could bring her back. Her curly hair. Her blue eyes. The way her nose scrunched up whenever she smelled something funny. Her laugh.  _ Please, don’t take away her laugh. _

**_‘I’d give her about a seven out of ten. She’s definitely out of your league.”_ **

“What? You can fish your way into my memories now?”

**_‘Course not! Wouldn’t want to anyway. Up until you entered this studio, your life was probably just heart pills and shuffleboard! I’m just able to see what you’re thinkin’. And you’re thinkin’ about a seven out of ten.’_ **

“She’s a ten out of ten.”

**_‘Seven and a half.’_ **

He had to stop arguing with it. It wasn’t worth it. At the moment, it was better to just sit in silence and pray the demon did the same. That they both could take some time to recuperate. Once Sammy returned, Henry would be adamant on leaving the sanctuary and diving into the belly of the studio. His waning strength be damned!

The old animator was prepared to close his eyes, take advantage of the fact he had something resembling a bed to rest on. How long would it be until he got the chance to do so again? Just as his eyes were half lidded, a scrap came against the metal door. Then another. The sounds had caused Henry to jump.

But he flew up into a sitting position when a scream was heard from right outside the door.


	4. Wandering Is a Sin

It was like his  **DREAMS** were finally becoming a reality. He’d been able to serve his Lord dutifully and to the best of his abilities all those years. He’d been able to build up a flock and bring others into the darkness that would eventually become the light. He had given them all purpose. Something to believe in. He’d done  **GOOD.**

And it all had paid off. His deeds. His faith. His many trials. All of it had come full circle to lead to that very moment. To the moment he’d face his Lord. To the moment his Lord would appear before him in His ideal image and grace him with further purpose. To give him one last trial before he could be set free from his inky bonds.

The prophet had taken up his Lord’s passed out form and carried Him to sanctuary. The large metal door was cracked open just enough for him to duck under. Once inside, he shifted his Lord’s weight around to free one of his hands, quietly shutting the metal door so as to not disturb his flock. Despite how quite he was being, his flock would no doubt know he was hiding in there. After all that time, they knew him well. Just as he knew them. 

But the flock and their thoughts were not his concern right now. The prophet had to keep his focus on the savior that was held in his arms. Once his Lord was stronger, the flock would be made content. They would be able to pay witness to the one who they had put their faith in and see that salvation had finally come. They just needed time. 

No doubt they were all still just shaken up from seeing their prophet become one with the inky puddles again. His fifth death had been far more brutal than his third. And his flock was much larger now too. So many, in their homes, in their safety nets, had to bear witness to their prophet’s fall from grace. But they would repair themselves. Just as they had last time.

“He will set us free. They will see.”

He uttered, making way further into his sanctuary. The cot had been new to the room. The prophet could not recall why he had brought it there in the first place. Something had compelled him to. Perhaps his Lord knew of what was to come and had sent him messages through the ink? Knew that He would need a place to rest once His form had changed and He had been rendered weak.

What ever the reason, it was there. And there it was the prophet laid his savior down. There was no blanket nor pillows to cover the other with. But at least it was a place to recuperate. Once his Lord awakened, He would be stronger. Able to guide His humble and faithful sheep through the ink and lead them out of the studio. Out of their Hell.

Oh, he could not wait. He had forgotten so much of his life since his time in the ink. He could scarcely remember what he looked like before he’d been sent upon his trials. Tanned skin. Hair...black, maybe? Black like the ink that made up his current form. Eyes? What color had his eyes been? 

It didn’t matter. Because soon he would be saved and be reminded of what his life was once more. He would follow behind his Lord. Take up arms with his flock. And together they would all leave and become who they once were. The idea was something he’d held onto for years now. It was the only thing that had kept him going. Was one of the reasons he held onto his faith as tightly as he did. Because he knew one day it would  **SET HIM FREE.**

The prophet was drawn from his thoughts and dreams as he heard a slight rapping on the metal door. Turning away from his Lord, he glanced in the direction of the noise. His flock, they were out there. Waiting for him. There was not many, he could tell. But eventually they would all converge and that rusty, old metal door would not hold. He could not let them in. Lest their current madness and lack of faith anger their Lord. They could not be set free if they upset the Ink Demon. And the prophet would not let them all sink back into the nothingness of the puddles.

“Sheep, sheep. It’s time for sleep…” 

The words were like a whisper. Something he’d said many times before. He took up his axe again and made way toward his desk. It was no problem moving the piece of furniture slightly to the right. Just enough to reveal the opening of a vent shaft. The prophet glanced one last time to his Lord, making sure the other was not awakened by the slight noise. Luckily, He was not.

“Time for sleep...time for sleep…”

The prophet bent down and made his way through the vent shaft. Something he often traveled through if the metal door to the sanctuary was stuck. Or if his flock was blocking it up with their inky bodies. Or if he did not have the strength to travel through the puddles.

The latter one, he was still slowly regaining that ability back. His fifth death had taken its toll on him. He often felt a nagging pain in the back of his head. Though he knew there was no injury there. He had felt back there many times before and had come across no dent or gash in his ink. But yet, the pain persisted. On and off. On and off. Would that go away once he was free from his inky body? Or perhaps it would disperse once he was at his full strength again.

Just as his Lord was doing, the prophet needed to rest. But he had no time for that. Not when his Lord needed him to complete more trials and tasks. Not when his flock needed to be quelled and reined back in. He could not allow them to run rampant.

The vent shaft was not a long one. Two right turns and one left and the prophet found himself climbing out. Into a familiar hall that he’d walked through many times before. His own writings etched across the walls. Candles strewn about. It saddened him to see some of them knocked over and their light extinguished. It  **HURT** to see some of his writings defaced with words like  **_LIAR_ ** and  **_FALSE PROPHET_ ** written over them.

Liar? False? He had been nothing but honest with them all. It was the Creator who had betrayed him. The man with the J. The man with a name that the prophet couldn’t remember. And that false Chosen One. The one that his Lord had spared. That man had to have something to do with the man with the J. 

“They have fallen from grace. Just as I once had. Oh, my sheep. You will be redeemed.”

His grip tightened upon his axe, hefting it up over his shoulder before he continued down the corridor. He could hear the restless voices of his flock from all around him. Some were lost in their inky puddles, yelling out and wanting to be given form, but having trouble holding onto it. Give them time, they would be reborn. Just as he had been. Some of the voices came from rooms, those hiding, too fearful to come out. Most of the voices were near the room of music. Those who were most active were trying to converge upon there. To get to their prophet. 

If they could not be quelled and had truly fallen from his teachings, well, some time in the puddles would set them straight. The prophet had no time for nonbelievers. Nor did he have time for those who  **DARED** to try and bring harm upon the Lord.

“Sheep. Sheep.  **_SHEEP!_ ** ”

He stomped down the hall, turned a corner, and came face to face with a gaggle of his flock. They had no legs. Their form was barely held together. But they surged toward him on misshapen arms and hands. The prophet could sense their anger, mainly from high pitched screeching in between their gurgled pleas.

_ “False prophet! False!” _

_ “He did not save us! He did not free us! They are still trapped. Trapped in his lair.” _

_ “No faith! No faith!” _

They angered him. Looking at them made him sick. Thus, he had little problem raising his axe and bringing it down upon their heads. One down. Then another. They could not touch him as they fell beneath the blade of judgement. They wailed. They continued to shout blasphemy. But the prophet showed no mercy to such sinners.

“Nothing but wolves. No longer sheep. May you repent in the puddles.” Seven of them in total. Seven of them returned to their puddles to try and be reborn. The prophet gave a silent prayer, hoping they would all return to him with far more faith in their hearts. But there was some doubt building up inside him. They were not like that last time. Not when he’d perished before them before. Their cries, their pleas. There was far more betrayal in their tone. Far more doubt.

But why?

No. The time to question his flocks pains and demeanor could be addressed later. There was still more of them. The prophet could hear them. There was still work to be done. Thus, he laid his axe across his shoulder once more and went forward.

His fifth death had brought changes to them. Changes to his flock. Just as his third death had. Oh that third time…

\----------

_ The first time it had been due to the fact he could not hold his form. Two hands had emerged from the puddles, trying to pull out of the darkness. But other hands had latched on and pulled him back under. They had demanded guidance. They wanted him there to give it to them. But he had none to share. He had been blind, deaf and mute back then. Unaware of his purpose. _

_ The second time was due to carelessness. He had escaped the puddles, but he had been no different from the others at that point. A legless and misshapen form. Struggling to get around. Barely able to go a few feet without having to rest and possibly sink back down into the inky puddles made by his own body. He had chosen to rest in a spot that was dangerous, he knew that now. The crates had fallen atop him and crushed him immediately. He was still blind, deaf and mute. _

_ But when he emerged again, he could see. He could hear. He could  _ **_SPEAK_ ** _. His voice was not filled with pained gurgles. He could rise onto shaky legs. He could clearly hear the voices of others. Ones crying out to be guided. To be given purpose. To be  _ **_SAVED_ ** _.  _

_ It was at that time he found the mask. A sign of what he was to do. And thus, he became their prophet. _

_ He had taken their hands and led them to have some faith. He had been a young and hopeful fool back than. Still not used to the role he was carrying upon his shoulders. He put his trust in too many. He did not see the evil that could come from the studio. Some would say, he was still blind and deaf and mute. _

_ “Come. Come with me. Let me guide you.” _

_ The prophet had traveled many parts of the studio. Looking to make his flock grow. It had been so small at that time. But it was not difficult to convince the lost puddles of ink into joining his cause. Into worshiping the one that would eventually set them free.  _

_ “The Ink Demon. Our Lord, Bendy. He will rise up. His form will be perfected. And it is then that we will ascend into His ideal world and be freed from this prison. We are all sinners, my sheep. We had abandoned Him back in our old lives. We had forgotten His word. His songs. His desires. And this? This is our punishment. But our renewed faith will set us free.  _ **_HE_ ** _ will set us free!” _

_ He’d said those very words so many times back in those days. And he’d been met with gurgled responses and slight cheers from those who had found their voice. But he knew they were happy. That they were hopeful. That slowly, they were peeking out from the darkness and coming into the light of salvation. _

\----------

“Sleep now. Sleep. When you return, you will have faith.”

It tried to hold out. To keep its form. Reaching out to the prophet to strike one final blow, seemingly ignoring the axe that was embedded in to its head. Pulling the object out caused the sheep’s form to shudder, and eventually, fall apart. 

“I am not merciful as I was before. I will not turn a blind eye to your transgressions again. You are  **UNGRATEFUL** . You are  **DIRTY** . You are falling back into your world of  **SIN!** ”

There was a slight growl to his tone. Moving close to those of his flock that were cowering nearby. They had witnessed their prophet’s path to redeeming them. They had witnessed him striking down their fellow sheep. Good. They  **NEEDED** fear within them. Fear is what brought about change. Brought back faith. 

“I will save you. Just as He has saved me.”

The prophet raised his axe again and ignored the screaming pleas.

\----------

_ “More music? Excellent! You have done this humble prophet proud. The Lord will thank you for this service.” _

_ He glanced down to the sheep. The one that stuck out above the rest. The others were faceless, gurgling messes. Hard to tell apart from one another. But the one at the prophet’s side was different in that he wore a hat. _

_ That hatted sheep was one of his favorites. Often bringing him music to play during service. Finding sheets upon sheets of hymns that the prophet himself could never come across himself. And at times, the hatted sheep even took up an instrument and tried to play something itself! It was delightful.  _

_ “We shall play this tonight. But for now, I must continue my recruitment. No, no, you cannot come with, my sheep. I need you here. To prepare the hymns and make sure your fellow sheep are ready for when I return.” _

_ His hatted sheep only gave a nod and small gurgle in response. Soon sinking back down into his own puddle. Hat and all.  _

_ The prophet left his music room shortly after. Wandering familiar halls and looking for new  _ faces _. Mainly those who he could tell had not been converted. There were still many of them after all. Some took days to convince. The prophet having to catch them whenever they would disappear and reappear. Some of them were entirely new. Coming from different parts of their many layered Hell. Perhaps they were coming because they had heard of the Lord’s word? The prophet liked to think as much. _

_ “Let me guide you. Let me help you.” _

_ He would say. And they would listen. Today was no different. Managing to convince some lost souls who had been waxing and waning on his word for some time now. _

_ “Let me-” _

_ Humming bounced off the walls of the hall. It was faint. So much so that the sheep in front of him seemed befuddled from his sudden halt in his speech. Did they not hear it? That familiar tune? Oh, it was one he had no sheet music for, which was a shame. The melody rested in the back of his mind and had become a favorite of his. But he could not play it out loud.  _

_ “Make your way to the music room. There you will find a sheep with a hat. Let him help you until my return.” _

_ The prophet turned from them. Whether they listened or not would be determined upon his return. Right now, he had to find the source of that humming. It became louder as he ventured down the hall. Into darker corridors that he had yet to go down before. The voice...it was familiar in a way. And yet oddly distorted. But the melody remained the same. _

_ Turning a corner, the prophet nearly jumped back in fright as the humming stopped. And replacing it was words. Singing. The voice so lovely that he  _ **_HAD_ ** _ to know where it was coming from.  _

_ “I’m the cutest little angel, sent from above, and I know just how to swing. I got a bright little halo, and I’m filled with love...I’m Alice Angel!” _

_ The song sent a shudder through him. It was comforting, and yet he felt as if something were wrong. That while the melody was on point and the voice was lovely...the tone wasn’t quite right.  _

_ “I’m the hit of the party, I’m the belle of the ball, I’m the toast of every town!” The voice sang.  _

_ And the prophet returned their call with “Just one little dance, and I know you’ll fall…” _

_ Silence met him. And for a moment, the prophet feared he had chased the voice off. That he had offended them by announcing the fact he knew the lyrics as well. He mentally chastised himself. About to abandon his cause when he heard: _

_ “I’m Alice Angel! I ain’t no flapper, I’m a classy dish, and boy, can this girl sing.” _

_ Ah! Yes! They were still there. The prophet tried to figure out just where their voice was coming from. But with that last line, it seemed to be coming from every angle. Ah, traveling through the ink were they? Perhaps trying to figure him out and see if he were a threat. He wasn’t! He was just a humble shepard trying to bring in more to his flock and lead them into his faith! He would do the same for the lovely voice. _

_ “This gal can grant your every wish…” _

_ He gave the next line and waited for the final one to be spoken. And when it was, the prophet recoiled. _

_ “I’m Alice Angel.” _

_ The voice was deeper. Filled with malice. And worst of all? It came from right behind him. _

_ The prophet jumped away from the voice. He had expected to see someone that was similar to all his other sheep. But oh, he was met with something far,  _ **_FAR_ ** _ worse. Something that was disfigured. Something that wasn’t quite right. There was a hole in her left cheek, revealing yellowed teeth that rest beneath. Her halo was broken and lodged into her head. Horns chipped away and cracked. _

_ “I like meeting my fans.” The voice spoke, taking a step closer. The prophet responded by taking one back. His actions caused the other to laugh. Even that sound held hatred beneath it “Not many know my song anymore. All I hear are those stupid,  _ **_STUPID_ ** _ tunes from the demon. None that represent me. The angel.” _

_ Stupid? The demon? Did she just...did she dare  _ **_INSULT_ ** _ their Lord right in front of him? _

_ “You are mistaken,” He uttered, trying to keep his rage in check “Those hymns are meant to appease the Ink Demon. To make our Lord happy. Doing so will-” _

_ “Oh, so it’s  _ **_YOU_ ** _ playing them at all hours of the day,” She scowled at him now. The thing that called itself an angel “And you who is spreading that nonsense around. I’ve heard it before. In the pipes. Written on the walls. From those who I have made my own.” _

_ The prophet was confused now. She had heard his word before and yet was not convinced? She had not rejoiced and made her way to his music room so that she might serve their Lord? She had... _ **_SCOFFED_ ** _ at the idea and found it distasteful?  _

_ A...a heretic! That was what she was. But of course that was the case. Angels did not serve demons. They only served their own agendas. They could not be converted. They could not be saved. _

_ “You are beyond salvation. Is that why you dismiss my gospel?  _ **_HIS_ ** _ gospel. Because you know there is no use for you in His kingdom.” _

_ He tugged at the angel’s strings. Seeing how she tensed up and how her scowl grew. It was unsettling to see the hole on the side of her face grow with every stretch that came with a changing facial expression.  _

_ “There is no kingdom. There is no salvation. You’re a fool for thinking so. And an even bigger fool to convince all of them to follow you and that demon when they could be following  _ **_ME!_ ** _ ” _

_ Oh, not a heretic. Just an angel who fancied herself some new god. She wanted what the demon had, to be worshiped. To be loved. To be served. Ha, she would not get that from him. Nor his sheep. The angel would continue to wallow in her self pity and despair. Never to be held as highly or be as loved as the demon. _

_ “You. They trust you.” She uttered, taking another step toward the prophet. He did not back away that time. He had nothing to fear from a raving angel.  _

_ “I am their prophet,” He responded “I have given them purpose. I have given them faith. I have given them truth-” _

_ “ _ **_TRUTH?_ ** _ ” Her shriek rang throughout the hall. The anger in her tone seeming to increase tenfold “You’re nothing more than a  _ **_LIAR_ ** _. Just like  _ **_HE_ ** _ was! You lied to your angel. You filled her with false hope. With promises of fame. You lied to my dear  _ **_SUSIE!_ ** _ ” _

_ That name, it struck something in him. Susie, Susie, Susie. He could not recall a face. He could not recall anything about them. But the name. The name stuck with him and he could not shake a feeling of guilt that was deep in his gut. Had some dastardly deed been done in his past life? Before the ink had taken him? _

_ “I don’t know any Susie.” He stated, despite the odd feeling that ran in waves through his inky body. That response did not bode well with the angel. The prophet had no time to react as the other latched onto his arms. Her fingers digging rents into his ink. _

_ “You  _ **_DO_ ** _ know her! You aren’t allowed to forget her! To forget what you did! You took everything from her! From the  _ **_ANGEL!_ ** _ ” _

_ He could see a few shapes moving around them. Some of his sheep and some still not yet converted. They had heard the shouting. The ravings of the angel. They had come to pay witness as to what was happening. _

_ “The angel is nothing more than a false god. And this...Susie…” Why did it hurt to say that name? “They must have been nothing more than some heretic that followed you. I know no Susie. And I worship no angels.” _

_ She shoved him away after that. A loud and pained scream breaking the surface. The prophet had hit the ground with a thud and looked up at the angel, she was still screaming when she lunged for him again. A small knife held in her hand, though he had no idea where she’d pulled it from. The prophet barely had time to react as he rolled to his left and avoided being stabbed. The angel hit nothing but air and let out another scream. _

_ “You  _ **_LIED_ ** _ to her! You lied to your angel! You are no prophet, Sammy! You are a  _ **_LIAR!_ ** _ ” _

_ Another name that sent a shiver through him. He didn’t recognize it and yet...was that  _ **_HIM?_ ** _ Did she know of who he was before the ink had taken them all? Yes, yes the name! That had been his. Ah, it was a memory he hadn’t been able to bring about before. And no more seemed to come with it. But it was a  _ **_NAME!_ ** _ A sign he was edging closer to salvation. _

_ But he had no time to rejoice in it nor share the news with his sheep. The angel was coming for him again. But now the prophet, no, Sammy was prepared. He rose to his feet and stepped aside. Out of range of another swipe. His sheep and the others watched from a distance. Too afraid to approach. That was fine. He did not want them coming under any harm. _

_ He would defeat the angel with his own hands. Bring about an end to the one who fancied herself a god. But he needed a weapon. Dodging did him little good when he had nothing to use to retaliate. Sammy scanned the hall and soon his gaze fell upon an axe. It was hard to see as it was covered in ink and blended in to their surroundings. He had to get to it.  _

_ “Liar! Liar!  _ **_LIAR!_ ** _ ” _

_ The angel continued to shout. To swing, to swipe. And she never seemed to tire. In fact, she seemed to be growing stronger. More brazen. Every time she missed, it seemed to drive her further. The force behind her swings intensifying. But with each step and dodge, Sammy was getting closer to the axe. _

_ “Hurry, prophet!” _

_ “Stop her! Stop her!” _

_ “She is hurting us!” _

_ He hadn’t a clue what his sheep were yelling out about. But he could clearly hear the fear in their voice. They were not cowering because of the sudden outbreak of a fight. They were cowering because of  _ **_HER._ ** _ Did they...know of the angel? Had they tried to spread the word of the Ink Demon to her before? Had she tried to attack them for it? _

_ No wonder they held such apprehensions. _

_ “Prophet!”  _

_ The axe was no longer on the floor. Instead it was held in the hands of one of his sheep. Held out for Sammy to take, and take it he did. Hand wrapping around the hilt and taking a swing. The angel was just as agile as he was, it seemed. She took a step back and narrowly avoided meeting her end. That sudden action caused some moments of reprieve. Now that her opponent was armed, the angel didn’t seem too keen on charging at him.  _

_ But Sammy, oh no, he had new found vigor running through him. The Lord had sent the angel there as a test. So that the humble prophet could prove his faith by casting out those who tried to play god. To cast out those who tried to tug at his emotions and find pity. He would not fall for it and he would not fail his Lord. _

_ Thus, he came right at her. The swings of his axe growing closer each time. But the angel was not growing tired. Eventually she came to her senses and started to try and return Sammy’s attacks. Axe against knife. Really, it should have been the former to win the day and strike the sinner down. But alas, trials were not so easy. The pair seemed evenly matched. Barely grazing the surface of each other’s inky bodies. Neither seeming to tire out. They would go on forever unless… _

_ Unless he appealed to her. The angel wanted validation. She wanted to be worshiped. To be loved. He could give her that, for a few fleeting moments. Up until he drove his axe into her skull. _

_ “You are worthy,” Sammy started “You fight hard for your cause. Just as I do for mine.” _

_ The angel did not grace him with a response. Her lone eye simply studying him. Sammy took that as a sign that she was waiting for him to say more. So he did “I admire that. Admire your drive. I also thank you for gracing both shepard and sheep with your presence. The Ink Demon Himself does not come here often.” _

_ His flock whispered all around him. He could hear the confusion ringing out. The prophet raised a hand to silence them, and fall silent they did. They would see what he was planning soon enough. They just had to have faith in him until then. _

_ “You said you have made people your own. Do you already have a following? Some who already come to you for some form of saving?” _

_ The angel lowered her knife at that. Her guard was still up but he could tell she was befuddled by his words. Trying to formulate some sort of response “You could say that.” Was all she eventually ended up uttering. _

_ “And how did you do that? Do you have a prophet of your own?” _

_ “No.” _

_ “Shame. Who is there to spread your gospel? To speak of you? After all, you did say your own hymns were being forgotten. But ah, I have not let them slip away. I still know those old songs.”  _ _ Appeal to her. Let her believe there was promise within him. Within what he was saying.  _ _ “They should remember you. Just as they remember Him. Maybe even more so.” _

_ “You’re throwing him away now?” The angel laughed. But Sammy could tell he was drawing her in. Her desire to be remembered. Her desire to be loved. It was overriding any wariness that may still be present “To worship  _ **_ME?_ ** _ Why? Why now?” _

_ “Because you’re Alice Angel.” _

_ He let his axe fall to his side. His grip upon the hilt was still tight. He was still ready to strike out. But he could not do so if he still seemed like a threat. His other hand, his free one, raised up and was held out to the other. _

_ “Let me be your prophet.” _

_ The angel was stunned. In disbelief. She looked at him with one wide eye. Her desires still outweighed anything else running through her mind. Because she surged forward and clasped his hand. A smile coming to her disfigured face. _

_ “Yes, yes! They should know of  _ **_ME!_ ** _ Not him! Not-” _

_ The axe dug into her neck. Sammy had given it no second thought. The blade was embedded deep within the angel’s ink. And soon she would fall to the floor and dissolve. Eventually she would come back, the prophet did not doubt that. But the wound he’d given her would take time to heal. Take time for the ink to fix. Perhaps next time the angel would come back as one of his followers rather than a false god. _

_ But there was no time to rejoice in his victory. No time to even let the angel fall to the floor. Before Sammy could even release his hold upon the hilt of the axe, he felt a blade dig into his own neck. Surprise ran through him. Just barely able to see the angel’s hand, still clutching the blade. The other even had the strength to twist the knife and dig it in deeper. Causing Sammy to let out a shout. He tried to step away, but the angel’s hold upon his free hand tightened and she pulled him closer. Inky tears stained her face. _

_ “You  _ **_LIED_ ** _ again!” She rasped out, ink falling from her mouth as well “All you do is lie, Sammy! All you do is  _ **_LIE!_ ** _ ” _

\----------

His third death had not pleasant. Regenerating had been a slow process that time as well. It hadn’t been a terrible wound, so he had thought. But the ink had taken time to put him back together again. And when he’d come back, his flock was smaller. He had to start from square one. He had to strengthen himself. Dedicate everything he was to the cause of his Lord. His past life meant nothing until he had completed his mission.  **SAMMY** had to be thrown away until all was said and done. Only the prophet could remain until then.

It wasn’t until much later that he found out the angel’s  _ following _ was just a slew of sacrifices she had made. A means to make herself beautiful. The prophet could understand making sacrifices. He had before to his Lord. But...he had never done any to better himself. He had never stolen ink from his flock. 

“Your cowering does you little good. You have made your choice.” He uttered, his axe raised to come down upon yet another of his fallen flock. Soon he would be to the music room and before his sanctuary. Only a few more of his faithless followers would remain in his way. He could cast them down and give them the chance to rise up stronger and with more faith. 

“You-”

Humming filled the hall.

The prophet  **FROZE** . Every part of him tensed. That gave his fallen sheep the opening it needed to retreat back into its inky puddle. With its departure, the prophet snapped back to reality. Axe falling to his side as he quickly scanned the darkened hall. 

Where was she?  **WHERE WAS SHE?**

Why was she there? She rarely traversed those halls anymore! She remained in her own area. Remained to her own devices. She scarcely bothered with him anymore.  **WHY** was she there?

“Now, now, don’t stop on my account.” The angel’s voice rang out. The cruelty in her tone was easy to hear. But just where she was, he hadn’t a clue. But that was her thing wasn’t it? To intimidate. To try and make her victims second guess themselves. “Such a merciful Lord you serve. Did the demon ask you to bludgeon everyone who followed you?”

“They were tainted,” He responded “They lost purpose. They need to be reborn.” The prophet did not stop to chat. Though he gave an answer, he moved forward. He had to get to his sanctuary before his flock broke through. Before they made a mistake and angered the Lord.

“Where are you going? Running so soon?”

The prophet came to a halt as a figure emerged before him and a hand was placed on his chest. He glanced down at the slender fingers before his gaze rose back up to meet the eye of that familiar disfigured face. Ah, she was growing brazen. She saw he was carrying an axe, right? One he wasted no time in swinging.

But the angel was as agile as ever. Her smirk remaining in place as she stepped aside and let the blade of the axe meet the air.

“Is that any way to greet your angel?”

“You are no angel of mine. Nor no god. Step aside. I have no time for you today.”

He could see her smirk waver slightly, but no comment was made on it. The angel shaking her head, almost in a disapproving manner “Sammy, my Sammy. Even after all that's been done to you, you still carry on like  **THIS?** ” She gestured at the entirety of him. Another shake of her head “Even after being torn apart…”

The prophet tensed yet again. How...how did she know about that? Not even his flock had been told. He dared not to tell them of his being torn apart by their Lord. They may not have seen it in the same light as he had. May not have realized that the prophet’s fourth death was all apart of him serving another purpose. 

He hadn’t told them, because he wanted them to keep faith. But the angel. She knew.  **HOW** did she know?

“I haven’t a clue-”

“Don’t play dumb with me. Don’t try to  **LIE** again.” Her smirk faded into a scowl. An expression the prophet was for more familiar with “Alice, oh, she doesn’t like liars. You’ve done so much of that lately. Your entire  _ faith _ is all built on a lie. Your  _ flock _ sees it. They know of  **YOUR** sins, Sammy.”

As if on cue, hands wrapped around the prophet’s ankles. He glanced down in alarm and saw them emerging from the inky puddles beneath him. He tried to pull from their grasp but their grip only tightened. Holding him in place as the angel grew closer. The prophet could not even swing at her with his axe again as one of the more formed sheep of his flock stepped up from behind. Their inky arms wrapped around him and pinned his own arms to his sides. Another one came and pried his fingers open so that they could relieve him of his axe.

_ “False prophet.” _

_ “Liar. Liar.” _

_ “Led us astray.” _

“I did no such thing!” He shouted in anger, trying to wrestle free from the hold of his sheep. How dare they align themselves with the angel! With the enemy! There would be no salvation for them if they turned against their prophet. Against their Lord.

“You were once so handsome, Sammy. So full of promises. You made the angel feel special. Made Susie feel special.”

There was that name again. He still couldn’t recall a single thing about the holder of it. Just only ever feeling guilt whenever the name managed to cross through his mind. In that moment, he still had no time to dwell on it. Recoiling as the angel’s hand reached out and grasped at the side of his mask, pulling it upward so it rested at the top of his head.

“And now look at you. Just another faceless abomination. The perfect fate for a liar.”

He was made uncomfortable by the loss of his cover. Growing anxious as time went by and he could not pull it back down. That feeling increasing in intensity as the angel continued to study his featureless face. Her hand raised up and poking at him.

“Eyes used to be here. They were a lovely shade of green.” Were they? “A small nose here. Lips here. Lips she wanted.”

The prophet leaned back, but he couldn’t go far. He was still held in place by those who were once of his flock. The angel was allowed free reign to poke at him and make comments as she so pleased. Her scowl had gone away again. The smirk of before having returned. A look that was just so unnerving.

“It will be fun ripping you apart. I’ll go slow, unlike the others. I want to cherish this. To cherish our time together. I won’t let you  _ die _ like the others, Sammy. You and I? We’re going places.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. He remembered the screams he would hear ringing up from the other floors. Of those who had been through the angel’s torture and had come back with full knowledge of their trauma. It had been so hard to comfort them. To even approach them. The prophet did not want to imagine how he would be after a round of the angel’s torment.

He had to escape. To get back to his Lord. But he had little idea how. He could not break free. He could not reach his axe. He was at the angel’s mercy. So he believed.

Looking around had yielded little results at first. His flock had turned against him. They would not be there to free him or offer aide like last time. The prophet considered trying to appeal to the ones that were there, up until his gaze fell upon a sheep lingering in the background. One with a hat sitting atop its head.

It was behind the angel, so she couldn’t see it. But the rest of his sheep could and they paid it no mind. In its hand was a gear, but it did nothing with it. The hatted sheep just remained in place, looking upon the scene with perhaps a sense of confusion.

_‘Serve your prophet! Help!’_ He wanted to shout, but dare not risk alerting the angel to the other’s presence. His hatted sheep was the only chance he had. It had to understand that. It had to serve.

And serve it did. It looked from the scene going on before it to the gear in its hand. Then repeated the process. Eventually the hatted sheep reared its arm back and allowed the gear to fly. The object nailing the angel in the back of the head and pushing her forward. Her balance was lost and she crashed into the prophet. He lost his balance and in turn the sheep holding his arms in place lost theirs. 

The lot of them fell backwards. The grip around his ankles and entire frame lessened. Enough so that he could pull free. Able to shove the angel off of him before she could completely recover. When he looked forward again, the hatted sheep was gone. The prophet could not blame it for running. It had done all it needed to. The prophet would have to do the rest.

“No! No you aren’t going anywhere!”

The angel reached out just as the prophet rose to his feet. Her hand grasped at his wrist and tried to pull him back down. He responded by pulling back and bringing her forward. Despite how the angel presented herself, she was not physically strong. Her hold upon him was lost as she came forward and became sprawled across the floor once more. Giving the prophet enough time to take up his axe and create a gap between them.

His fallen sheep was slowly recovering. Yellowed eyes and empty sockets looking to the angel for what to do next. For guidance. The same way they had once looked at him.

“Get him!  **GET HIM!** ”

That was enough for them. Their gaze fell to the prophet and they moved forward. He did not give them time to grab at him again, bolting from his position and making a beeline for the music room. Everything was like a blur to him from there on out. Swinging his axe to make room. Shoving his way passed fallen sheep. Whether he ended their  _ lives _ or incapacitated them, he did not care. He  **HAD** to get away.

Soon enough he found himself in the music room. Eight of his flock were banging and screaming against the sanctuary door. Soon enough their combined weight would break it down. 

“Back! Get back!” He shouted, swinging at them with his axe. Some fell, others fled. He did not have time to contemplate why. The prophet had to get to his Lord and guide Him to safety. But there was no time to go to the projector and play the code to open the door. He could hear more of his flock coming. He could hear the angel’s angered shouts.

The prophet raised his axe and brought it down on the door. The metal was so rusted and old that the blade cut through it like cardboard. A few hefty swings made a large enough hole for him to climb through. Rushing into the sanctuary and to where his Lord was awake and waiting.

“My Lord. We must go.”

He prayed the savior could walk now. Carrying Him through the vent while trying to crawl through it would not make for an easy task. His prayers were answered. His Lord quickly scrambled to His feet, taking a moment to find purchase but remaining standing. Good. Progress. A sign that the Lord was adjusting to His perfect form.

“What’s going on?” The Lord asked, but the prophet did not answer. Instead he quickly shuffled the other towards the opening to the vent. The flock had reached the music room now. The  **ANGEL** was coming for them.

“Go! My Lord, please!”

A loud crash alerted them to the fact that the metal door had fallen. The screams were a sign that the flock was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a flashback chapter. But one I was incredibly excited to write up. I actually meant to go on more but figured this was a good stopping point. Hope you enjoyed the Sammy development!


	5. Take You By the Hand

When a psychotic man made entirely of ink busts down his own sanctuary door and  **SCREAMS** for you to get up and get moving - you don’t ask many questions.

Henry had heard the shouting from outside the metal door. The agonized wails of the Searchers. What unnerved him about them was that he felt he could almost understand them. But he wasn’t able to make out much of anything in between their pounding on the door. Had they had a few more minutes, they would have no doubt busted it down and had Henry at his mercy.

It was at that time that the old animator had tried to find some form of escape. Ignoring the demon’s suggestion of traveling through an old ink puddle again. There was  **NO** way they were doing that for a long, long time. If ever. The jump had taken far too much out of their shared body. And the next jump might not put them in the hands of someone who  _worshiped_  them and wished to keep them  _ safe _ .

Henry had thrown his legs over the edge of the cot. He still wasn’t in top form, but he was better than before. His entire body wasn’t shaking as it had been. His vision was far clearer and his mind more settled. Able to take in his surroundings in a  _ seemingly _ calm manner. His eyes had just barely caught sight of the open vent shaft when he heard the sound of the axe busting down the door.

That was when it was time to jump into action. Henry was ready to slide from the cot and let his feet touch the floor. Curiosity got the better of him though and he looked toward the entrance to the sanctuary first, and thank some God that he did. Catching the form of Sammy through the new hole now in the middle of the door. The man’s inky form able to easily squeeze through the opening before he sprinted down the small corridor and started shouting that they had to go.

Henry didn’t argue. Not much at least. Finally scrambling onto his feet and asking just what was going on. Sammy didn’t have to serve him with an answer as the pair heard the loud, yet nearby screech. It caused both of them to tremble and soon the inked man was  **BEGGING** Henry to get in the vent. 

And that was what led them to where they were now. Henry had immediately climbed into the vent opening. Sammy was close behind, the man placing the vent grate back into place as best he could. Henry didn’t see how that would do them much good, believing the inky beings that were no doubt chasing after them would just slither through the openings and catch up.

But to his surprise, they did not. Allowing both  _ Lord _ and  _ prophet _ to continue on their way. The screeching and wails still tainted the air. A mixture of it combined with the banging of fists against metal. 

“Just keep going, my Lord. They will not follow. They do not like the cramped spaces.”

Henry could sense the strain in the other’s voice, making him believe that Sammy wasn’t fond of it either. Was it the being constrained that unnerved them? Or perhaps because it was so dark? Did it make them feel like they were swimming around in those ink puddles again? The deformed Alice had made it sound like utter torture when she brought them up.

“Your followers. That’s who they were, weren’t they? Why were they trying to attack you? I thought-”

“Forgive them, my Lord. They have lost faith. They have fallen. I sent as many as I could back to the puddles so that they could be reborn. So that they would come back ready to serve. But ah, I could not reach them all. That blasted angel. She has put wolves in my flock.”

_ Angel? _ Was it...but how? No, he knew how. They could reform. They  **ALL** could reform. And the deformed Alice would be no different. But why was she there? Henry had found her leagues below in the studio. He was nowhere near the Heavenly Toys factory nor the woman’s lair. What could have brought her to the music department?

**_‘Us probably. Angel-face did always have a thing for cuties like me.’_ **

_ ‘I doubt that’s how she sees you. She  _ **_FEARED_ ** _ you just as much as everyone else here.’ _

**_‘HA! I wish. That angel has some moxie. She hid like everyone else when I was around, but I knew she wasn’t afraid. She did everything she could to tick me off and bring me around. Though can’t tell ya why.’_ **

Strange. And probably not useful. But Henry stored that bit of information in the back of his mind for later. The goal now was just to get away from the angel rather than confront her like she might have wanted. On top of that, they would have to avoid the Searchers and Lost Ones as well. The whole point of lugging Sammy along was that so he could keep them at bay. But now that they had sided with the deformed Alice...

It really wasn’t looking too good right now.

“Take another left, my Lord. If we go out my usual way, she will find us. She must know the paths I take. Forgive me, my Lord. Had I known about the deceit in my flock-”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Henry side, taking the left he was instructed to “People uh...lose faith eventually. They’ll get it back, just like you did, right?”

There was a moment of silence between the pair. Henry didn’t like using the other man’s  _ demonic faith _ against him, but it had to be done. Even though Sammy could no longer keep the other creatures at bay, he could at least strike them down faster than Henry ever could. He  **HAD** to keep the false prophet loyal and on his side. Much as he still hated playing the  _ Lord _ card.

“Yes, yes, of course. You are merciful, my Lord. Very merciful.”

With that they continued on in silence, save for the few times Sammy would pipe up and state the way to go. It felt as if they were crawling for  **HOURS** , and had Henry still had the body of an old man, he would be feeling it. No doubt his knees and back would have been protesting being in such a position for so long. But as an inky gremlin, he was doing just fine. Actually able to fit down the vent passageways with ease.

The only one struggling was the one behind him. The longer they were in that vent, the more anxious Sammy seemed to become. The strain in his voice with each few words of direction uttered, it was clear as day. Henry didn’t know what would happen if his only line of defense suddenly got  _ vent madness _ , nor did he want to find out. Eyes catching sight of an opening just farther ahead. He ignored Sammy’s comment about making another right, instead surging ahead toward the opening.

“M-My Lord? Forgive me for correcting you. But I said to take a right.”

“No. We’re getting out of here before you end up melting into a puddle. I can tell you aren’t liking this. So let’s go.”

His words didn’t receive any argument. That was sort of the nice thing about being someone’s  _ god _ . They didn’t question decisions made by the  _ holy _ one. Or unholy one, in Henry and the ink demon’s case.

The old animator soon found his feet on the ground. Stepping out of the vent shaft and stretching once he was free of its confines. Though he had no muscles to work out or bones that needed cracked. The action of it was just familiar. Glancing back, he saw Sammy shakily remove himself from the vent. The other was worse for wear, more so than Henry initially believed.

Drops of ink were pouring off the of the music director, staining the entrance of the shaft as well as the floor. His legs were shaking and he had to keep himself supported with the help of the nearby wall. Adjusting his mask every so often as the thing tried to slide down along with the rest of the man’s inky form.

“Sammy, sit down. Catch your breath. Or...whatever you need to. We’re out now.” And wouldn’t be going back in for awhile if that was what would happen every time they ventured too long through the vent shafts.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” the other uttered as he slid himself onto the floor. Luckily he didn’t slosh down into a puddle, still able to maintain a semblance of his form, for now “I have...traveled through the vents often. But...but never for so long. It is...unpleasant. My flock did not like it...and neither do I.”

“So we avoid it from now on.”

“But my Lord-”

Sammy shut his mouth as Henry held up a hand as a sign for him to stop. There was no arguing about it. There was no need to add further problems to their already  _ bad luck  _ ridden adventure. They would walk the halls for now. It’d be slower than the ink jumping or traveling through the vents. And it was riskier what with all the Searchers roaming about. But if it meant keeping Sammy in one piece for the time being, then so be it.

With that decided, Henry went to an opposite wall of Sammy and slid down to the floor as well. Letting out a sigh of exhaustion, though he didn’t feel as tired as he had before. He was more so just over everything going on. The moment of reprieve gave him the chance to go over everything that had happened in those few short hours. Was it hours? He never really could tell time in that hell of a studio.

He just knew that in that time he’d  **ALMOST** defeated the ink demon. Then became the ink demon...sort of. Lost the only friends he had down there. Traveled through some ink. Became weaker than a toddler and then was found and  _ saved _ by some psycho that worshiped the ground he walked on. 

What in the  **HELL** was his life becoming?

**_‘A sitcom! But a bad one. No laugh tracks for the audience to follow along with. And YOU as the protagonist? You are the gloomiest star of the show I’ve ever come across.’_ **

_ ‘Glad to see that you somehow find humor in all of this. Try to remember that this isn’t going exactly how you planned either.’ _

**_‘You have me there. But give it time. I still have tricks up my sleeve.’_ **

Henry didn’t like the sound of that, but he didn’t bother to question the demon over it. He knew he wouldn’t get an answer even if he did. The bastard he shared a body with was pretty good at keeping secrets. The demon could read his thoughts but he couldn’t read its. A few flickers of shared emotions was the farthest he got. Over time would he be able to hear what the creature was thinking? Would that even be a  **GOOD** thing? Or would it just make their fusing together even worse. Would it give the demon more control?

Looking back in Sammy’s direction, he took note of the fact the other was slowly pulling himself back together. The longer they were out of the vent, the more good it did him. The man’s body only dripping out a few droplets here and there, and only if Sammy moved. Maybe a few minutes more and they could be on their way again. 

Out of the trenches and into the fire. Amazing how at one time in his life he could have been in a  **REAL** war and not one created by his old friend.

\----------

_ “W-what? I’m sorry. What did you say?” _

_ “I said you aren’t eligible. Surprised you made it even  _ **_THIS_ ** _ far.” _

_ Henry was stunned into silence, taking back the papers held out to him be the waiting soldier. It...it had to be some sort of joke right? That was what soldiers did to one another, wasn’t it? They messed around, sometimes going a bit too far, and then eventually laughing and taking it all back. At least that was how those old radio war shows made it sound like. _

_ But the look on the soldiers face made it clear that he was not joking around. And wanted Henry to  _ **_LEAVE_ ** _. _

_ “Listen, the asthma should have taken you off the block from the start, but somehow you got through. The psych evaluation was what got you caught. We need  _ **_MEN_ ** _ out there, not schmucks who want to put a bullet in their head just because their sad that day. You should be counting yourself lucky. I know quite a few men who’d like to be in your shoes right now.” _

_ No one wanted to be drafted, not even Henry. He had felt sick to his stomach when the announcement went out and he was selected. Him and countless other men, young and old. Involuntarily signed up to go fight in a war that they hadn’t even dreamed of taking part in. He should have been elated to be cast out, to be rejected. He should have been busting down the doors and running home. He should have hugged Linda and told her the good news. _

_ But he wasn’t happy. It actually made him feel like a  _ **_FAILURE_ ** _. And some guilt was mixed in there as well. Other men would be going out to risk their lives, whether they wanted to or not. And Henry was able to avoid it due to a breathing problem and his occasional feelings of wanting to die. Feelings that he only ever attached himself to when in a bind at the studio. A studio he would soon be returning to. _

_ “Well? Go on. Go hug your wife and celebrate,” The soldier uttered when he’d finally had enough of Henry’s gaping “Send the next one in on your way out.” _

_ Henry straightened himself out and left at that. Turning on his heels and exiting the room. Men in the hallway held their own papers. They also held distraught and angered expressions. They didn’t want to be there. They wanted to be home with their own families. And they had no clue if they would ever see their mothers, fathers, siblings, wives or children ever again. _

_ “Erm, you’re next.” The animator looking to one of the men closest to the door. The only response he got was a huff. The man shoving passed and going through the opened door - soon slamming it shut behind him. _

_ “Where you goin’? They didn’t give ya yer uniform?” _

_ One of the men sitting on the floor looked up at Henry in a questioning manner. Soon the others were looking over as well. Henry never liked being put on the spot “I...was rejected. Breathing problem.” _

_ “Shaddup!” One of the men to his left yelled “It just takes a bit of huff and puffs to get out of this shit? Had I known that I woulda taken up cigars!” _

_ “It doesn’t work that way, ya dick.” Another chimed in. Eventually the gaggle of them were mouthing off to one another, that gave Henry the chance to skulk away and leave the building entirely.  _

_ As he drove home, the guilt he felt before whittled away. It was gone completely by the time he told Linda he hadn’t been accepted. He’d thought she’d find him to be less of a man - but it was the complete opposite. She had been so relieved that she spent the rest of the night crying tears of joy. Because her husband wasn’t going off to war. Because she wouldn’t have to worry about a soldier coming by her house one day and giving her Henry’s ashes. _

_ Eventually, Henry came to see his rejection as a blessing. It gave him more time with his wife. It gave him more time to work on his career. Though it also returned him to the studio that had brought about his depression to begin with. A studio that he would leave behind five months after being rejected for enlistment. _

\----------

“Do you think you’re good enough to keep going?”

“Yes, my Lord. Forgive me for slowing down our progress. I know you must be in a hurry to find these lost souls. I shall not delay us further.”

Doubtful. Even if it wasn’t Sammy, it would be something else. Like a Searcher or Lost One. The deformed Alice. Or Hell, maybe even Norman would come back with his projector for a head and ruin their day even further. Anything was possible after all. Dreams didn’t come true in Joey Drew Studios - only nightmares.

“Don’t worry about it,” Henry said as he stood up from the floor “We’ll find them, they can’t go too far. And who knows, our paths may even cross eventually. If we’re lucky.”

“I will pray that we find them swiftly.”

“Pray? To me?” 

Henry couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Sammy cocked his head to the side. The crazed director having to take a moment to realize that he  **WAS** talking to his perceived Lord. Any prayers the other had could just be spoken to the  _ unholy ink demon _ out loud. And those prayers wouldn’t be necessary - seeing as it was quite obvious that Henry couldn’t perform miracles. At least not any that would bring him closer to the  _ lost souls. _

“I...see how odd that sounds now that you have pointed it out, my Lord.”

“It is. But if it gives you comfort, keep it up. I’m not gonna stop you from praying to the ink demon...erm...to me.” The animator quickly caught himself, and luckily Sammy didn’t seem to notice the slip up. The other man continuing to sit on the floor in a contemplative manner. It was a few moments more before he finally stood and looked to Henry.

“You have...become quite merciful, my Lord. In the past you would have lashed out, I assume because of the sins I still carried. But now...ah, no. Forgive me. I am questioning you and that is forbidden. You know what you are doing. This humble shepard is just grateful that you forgive his transgressions.”

With that Henry let out a sigh. On one hand, it was  **GOOD** that Sammy held fear for the ink demon, despite also worshiping it. It gave Henry the advantage to hold some form of control over the music director. To have some confidence in the fact the other wouldn’t strike at him due to fear of possibly being torn to shreds again. Henry wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing to Sammy - but the other didn’t know that. Nor would he ever. 

“You said I’m in my  _ perfect _ form right now, didn’t you? Because of your prayers,” Just keep buttering him up, it seemed to work after all “And being like this gives me some clarity I guess. You’ve done well as my um...prophet. I can’t punish you for doing all I’ve asked can I?”

Sammy looked taken back by that. At least his body language expressed as much. But he gave an eager nod, obviously delighted in the fact that Henry had mentioned all of the  _ prophet’s _ work. Because in the end, that was all Sammy wanted, right? For his deeds to be acknowledged by the one he worshiped. Because it made him believe that there was the chance of shedding all that ink and getting out of there.

Henry didn’t know if there was any escape, if he were being honest. He didn’t know what he was even on the hunt for. He wanted to reunite with Alice and Tom - but then what? Go back to the demon’s lair? What if it made his current transformation even worse? There was no end goal, and that actually frightened the animator. Because then that opened up a new can of worms. The slight fear that came with realizing that just like everyone else there - he may never get to leave the studio.

Trapped there. Stuck as an inky creature that lurked the halls. The only difference was that he didn’t have the  _ privilege _ of forgetting his old life. He also had the misfortune of sharing his current body with a demonic being. One that wanted all of the control, and might possibly have it some day. If Henry didn’t continue to fight against it and keep the demon weak.

**_‘You do know I’m hearin’ all of this, right?’_ **

“Shut up.”

“My Lord?”

“Not you.”

Henry let out an aggravated huff before motioning for Sammy to follow. He wanted to take the lead now, vaguely recognizing where the pair were. Close to where Boris’ little hideout had been. Just a few more corners and they would be there. Hopefully they could rig the door to open and find shelter in there - if need be. Or at least some weapons. Better to have even a soup can rather than continue to go around defenseless.

“Sammy, to get to my friends...um...these lost souls, we might have to go through the angel’s area. Do you know a way to get around that?”

“Without going through the vents? Yes, my Lord. I often had to travel an alternative way when going from the sanctuary to the village. My flock and I, we often tried to keep our distance from the angel’s compound. Not all were so lucky. No...no they were not.”

That was foreboding. And gave Henry all the more reason to try and avoid the deformed Alice’s area. She would no doubt have ideas of revenge, seeing as Henry did technically play a part in her  _ death _ . Or at least foiled her plans and kept her distracted long enough for the  **GOOD** Alice to stab her from behind. Good times those were. Not really. But they were better than what was happening now.

“So what’s this other way?” Henry peeked around a corner, no sign of Searchers or even Lost Ones. But the latter tended to only show up in the lower levels of the studio. 

“Before the room with toys. There was another stairwell we would take. From there we would travel down through the puddles. It had to be in short bursts for my flock, it took them time to travel back and forth. But for me it only took a few minutes. Once I am better rested, and once you are as well, we will be able to reach the village in mere seconds, my Lord.”

**_‘Wait. Nah. No way.’_ **

_ ‘What? What’s the problem now?’ _

**_‘This schmuck shouldn’t be able to do that!’_ **

Now Henry was confused  _ ‘Do what? Go through puddles? Everything else-’ _

**_‘Yeah, yeah. The rest of those inky goo dinguses can travel in the puddles, but prophet boy even said only in short distances. I was the only one who could slam myself against an inky wall and travel from the top of the studio to the bottom. How do you think I was able to keep up with you as easily as I did?’_ **

Okay. Henry wasn’t following. And the demon picked up on that as it let out an irritated groan  **_‘I’m saying that HE shouldn’t be able to do what I can do! Yeah, it doesn’t sound like he can zoom through like me but-’_ **

_ ‘But he still shouldn’t be able to travel as far as he can.’  _ It was all clicking together now, though Henry still wasn’t sure what it meant. Or if there was even any significance to it. Glancing over his shoulder to look at Sammy. The other simply stared back but offered no words of explanation. And why would he? He hadn’t heard the conversation going on in Henry’s head. And even if he had, would he even have an answer?

The demonic ink that flowed through the pipes, it did things to people. That was plain enough to see. It made people monsters. Made some cartoons. Perhaps Sammy was just a...special breed of a Lost One. After all, he was the only one not crying in a corner. The only one that actually wore clothes.

Was it really so strange that he-

**_‘Yeah it IS weird because he shouldn’t be able to do that! That’s MY thing!’_ **

_ ‘Not anymore.’ _

Henry chuckled as he went back to looking ahead of him. Finding it amusing how the  _ big bad _ demon in his head seemed to pout like a child over finding out someone could do something that had been  _ special _ to it. Cry a river over it, buddy. What did it matter? Not as if the pair of them could travel through the ink any way. Oh...yeah.

“That plan might not work, Sammy.” He sighed as his bit of chuckling died down “Last time I did that it...didn’t go well. I mean you saw how you found me in the music department. I’m not really...used to this...form.”

He gestured to the entirety of him. Trying not to seem weak in front of the other but also trying to get across the point that he couldn’t travel through the ink. Not in a way that didn’t end up with him collapsing on the floor soon after. 

“With time, my Lord. With time. You will improve, I am sure of it. I have my faith in you.”

If only that could accomplish anything. But sure. Let Sammy continue to have his faith. So long as it kept him moving. The pair still had some time to figure out an alternative. Worst came to worst they would just have to travel through the vents again and take breaks so that the  _ prophet _ could recuperate.

“Here! I want to check out here first.”

Henry could see the tiny opening up ahead. The one that he had to squeeze through the first time when Boris had led him to his  _ hideout _ . God, that seemed so long ago. The wolf was able to get through the gap easily enough. But Henry had so much difficulty. Having to suck in his gut and get Boris to pull on his arm to help him through. In his new form...well...it certainly wouldn’t take much effort now.

“Through that opening and then we’ll be at a door. An old friend, he-” Henry silenced himself, realizing that saying some toon had helped him probably wouldn’t make much sense to Sammy. Seeing as the other still saw him solely as the ink demon. And it was doubtful that any other ink creatures there had dared to go near the demon back when it was still that ghastly amalgamation of ink “Anyway, it’s a place for us to find weapons. Or at least come up with a plan.”

“But my Lord, I thought we already had one. I know I have lost faith before, but please, I assure you I am not trying to delay us by saying we must travel through the ink.”

Okay, fine. Now was not the time to bring up thoughts of a new plan. Henry going silent as he edged his way toward the small gap up ahead. Luckily Sammy seemed to get the message and went quiet. Following behind his  _ Lord _ . The pair of inky messes able to fit through the small gap with ease. Soon coming to the door that looked to be locked tight. Henry never understood how Boris was able to go in and out of it when the blasted thing locked from the inside.

The first time Boris had led him there, the door had been closed, but as soon as Henry had looked away, his companion had the door open and was already standing inside. Sadly though, there was no Boris that time to pull the same sort of strick. Henry looking to the door with a frown as he contemplated what to do.

“My Lord?”

“It can’t be opened from the outside. Maybe-”

He didn’t have to say another word as Sammy stepped forward and touched the door. Inky hand placed directly over the boards of wood that now just seemed redundant. Soon the man was kneeling down and placing his hand atop of a dried puddle of ink. Henry didn’t even have time to question what the other was doing before Sammy seemed to  _ melt _ and join the ink stain on the floor. The pair of overalls and the mask remained on the floor for a moment, but soon enough they too joined the ink and seemed to slink under the crack under the door.

A moment later, the door was opened. Sammy standing there, overalls and mask and all! Acting as if that was just a common way to open something in the studio. Hell, it might have been! Perhaps that had been what Boris had done! Either way, Henry wasn’t going to ask questions, moving forward and stepping inside the makeshift  _ safe house _ .

“Once you are well rested, you’ll be able to do that again too, my Lord. I know it.”

_ Ugh.  _ He wasn’t going to let that subject die, was he? Henry had a feeling that no matter what he said, Sammy would continue to have  _ faith _ in him and in the previous set plan. Crazed cultists like him were always dead set on what they viewed as the right path.

_ You have too much faith in me _ . He wanted to say, but that would just be obvious.

“Just, start looking for a weapon. You look over there. I’ll...be over here somewhere.”

It took a few minutes to convince Sammy to just  **WALK AWAY** . The other wanting to stick closely to his  _ Lord’s _ side. But Henry was having none of it. Wanting some time to himself before they took the long journey to the underbelly of the studio. He’d had enough of hearing about Sammy’s  _ faith _ in him for the day. He just wanted a few minutes of reprieve before it all started back up again.

**_‘See, you’re tired of him too. The option to tear him up is still on the table._ **

_ ‘And how do you plan to do that when you don’t have massive claw hands anymore?’ _

That shut the demon up, for now at least. Allowing Henry the quiet opportunity to explore the back hall. He couldn’t recall seeing anything  _ weapon worthy _ the first time he’d been there. But at the time, he hadn’t really been looking. More so on the hunt for bacon soup cans rather than an axe or a GENT pipe. 

“Nothing in here.”

He searched through the backroom, the one he’d once slept in. The items on the shelf only held a hardhat and a few empty soup cans. Same for the chest beneath the hammock. Though that had the extra item in the form of some children’s book. One that Henry couldn’t help but to flip through, the story was mostly blotted out by drops of ink. The pages yellowed due to years of neglect. Henry had to wonder if the book had never been seen outside the studio, since he couldn’t recall ever seeing it on shelves.

Not that he actively looked for anything with Bendy on it back then. After leaving the studio, just thinking of the cartoon he had helped create put a bad taste in his mouth. Mainly because it reminded him of Joey. Thus, he was rather grateful when the  _ craze _ of cartoons had died out. That and seeing other studios prevail where Joey’s had faltered and keeled over.

But not just the cartoons died with the studio. So did the people. Not that Henry had known at the time but...if he had. Well, perhaps there might have been  **SOMETHING** he could have done to prevent Joey from unleashing the amount of madness he had. Prevented him from turning his employees into damned ink creatures.

**_‘Don’t harp on it much. Old Drew woulda done it with or without you here. Only difference is, he woulda used your soul for something earlier than planned.’_ **

“How can you be so sure?”

**_‘Cause I know old Drew. He was a nutcase from start to finish. I mean really, you ever know a SANE person to make deals with the Devil?’_ **

Henry wasn’t sure if the demon’s words were meant to comfort him or not. But he took them as such. Seeing as it helped to alleviate the guilt of not having done anything to stop the madness Joey had spiraled into.

Thus, Henry ventured on. Leaving the backroom and debating whether or not to bother searching the bathroom. He really couldn’t recall anything of importance being in there. Save for the amount of shock he’d had when he saw no reflection in the mirror. But eventually he had chalked that up to the thing just being too smudged. And he was going to  **CONTINUE** holding onto that thought. What ever gave him comfort in the backwards world of the studio.

Taking the plunge, Henry eventually stepped into the bathroom. He glanced under the sinks - nothing. He looked to the open stall - still nothing. Finally eyes fell upon the one stall that had been locked the last time he’d been there. No matter how hard he had pulled on the handle, it hadn’t budged. Nor had he thought to climb under it since the space was so small he knew he wouldn’t fit.

**_‘Well don’t you have a solution for that now! Pays to be compact doesn’t it?’_ **

“Oh yes. I’ll revel in all the times I’ll be able to fit under bathroom stalls. I really have been given a gift.”

**_‘All right, wise guy. Stop jibber jabbering and get to movin’.’_ **

“You curious now too?” Henry smiled at that, truth be told he was curious as to what lay behind the locked stall. No doubt just another toilet filled with ink - but hey! Surprises were always bound to happen in the twisted studio. It was nice to see the demon having some form of curiosity too.

**_‘Well I clearly have nothing better to do than look through some toilets. So might as well find excitement in somethin’”_ **

Truer words had never been spoken. Getting down on his knees, Henry carefully climbed under the stall. The smile that he held fading in an instant as he looked up and took in the scene before him. It certainly wasn’t just a toilet full of ink. But God, now Henry was wishing that was all it had been.

Stained on the wall was the outline of a person. Like one of those police chalk drawings that would be put around a dead body. Henry wasn’t sure if he was reading too much into it, but the outline almost looked to be of his height and build, back when he was still human. And in the dead center of the outline? Only three words:

_ I’m waiting, Henry. _

He immediately crawled back under the stall door and went back to where Sammy was waiting. Nearly crashing into the  _ prophet _ as he sprinted back into the main room. The other had to place a hand on his shoulder to steady him. In the other hand, Sammy held a GENT pipe. At least one of them had luck in finding a weapon.

“My Lord? What happened? Are you all right?”

“We need to go.  **NOW.** ”

Sammy did not question him, releasing his hold on Henry’s shoulder before turning to the entrance. Though now it would be their exit. Both hastily making their way toward it, the music director now taking point as he led Henry out the door and back through the small gap. Then down a hallway that the animator had simply glossed over before.

“It is probably best we go. The angel will be returning to her  _ home _ soon. Though...she seems to be branching out. I’m not sure…”

Sammy did not finish his thoughts, instead surging forward. Henry struggled to keep up with him on his shortened leg, nearly tripping over the ends of his shirt, having to hoist the thing up eventually. He wasn’t sure what the other had been concerned over, frankly he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either. All he  **DID** know was that the deformed Alice was on their tail.

She had to be the one to write those words in the bathroom stall, right? Who else could it have been?

“The ink. We  **MUST** travel through the ink, my Lord.”

Again with that. But what choice did he have? The longer they lingered there, the more chance there was of the deformed Alice showing up with her pack of Searchers. The more chance there was of the pair being captured and put on the block for the woman’s torture. They couldn’t just wait around. They had to get to the good Alice and Tom.  **HE** had to get to them.

And the fastest way to do so, would be to travel through the ink. But could he take such a big leap again? He hadn’t even been the one to start the jump! It had been the demon! And he sure as Hell wasn’t letting that gremlin take control of any part of him again. Though in the back of his mind, he could feel the demon trying to wriggle through. But Henry had barriers in place, he knew better from the last time. Blocking the other from taking control.

_ Never again. _

“I will help you as best I can, my Lord. To even take a short trip through the puddles, if that would suffice. But if you desire to leave urgently, we must do so now.”

Down another corridor and soon they were at the doorway to a stairwell. Sammy threw the door open and stepped inside. Staining both the stairs and the walls were numerous ink stains. Some smaller than a shoe print. Others larger than a compact car. All of them no doubt having been used by the Searchers and Sammy to get to their little village beneath the studio. 

“And if I pass out again after? Sammy, it happened last time. It’s going to happen again.”

The  _ prophet _ went silent at that. Looking away from his  _ Lord _ to instead look at the ink stains. No doubt contemplating what to do, but he didn’t take long. Urging Henry forward with a wave of his hand. Soon coming to a stop in front of a stain that was larger than all the rest. One that nearly took up an entire corner of the stairwell.

“I will be there, my Lord. This was what this humble shepard was made to do. I had abandoned you once. I shall not do so again. Please, let me lead you to your lost souls. Let me help you to further perfect this form you have taken.”

Further nonsense from a crazed cultist. But again, what other option did Henry have?

**_‘I’m the other option! Just let me do the jump for us, without bringing along this schmuck!’_ **

_ ‘And? You didn’t even mean to put us in the music department last time!’ _

**_‘Yes, I-’_ **

_ ‘ _ **_NO_ ** _ , you didn’t! You want to stomp around here like you’re still the big bag demon of this place, but you’re not. You’re a little gremlin that’s trapped in a little gremlin body with  _ **_ME._ ** _ And we can’t do these jumps alone. We can’t leave Sammy behind and have zero protection. So shut up and let me  _ **_THINK_ ** _!’ _

The demon actually went silent then. No doubt taken back by Henry’s sudden mental outburst. Honestly, it surprised the animator himself. Not very often losing his cool in such a manner. But the events of the past few days had certainly caught up with him. What had happened in the past few hours  _ (?) _ had taken its toll the most. Leaving Henry with a flurry of second guesses. Making him fear for his life far more than he did when he’d first arrived.

Because he was small. Defenseless. And the only thing keeping him  _ safe _ was a cultist that worshiped a demonic cartoon. 

“Just a short jump. Just for now. I think that’s all I can do.”

The decision was made, Henry looking up to the other. Sammy didn’t seem to respond at first. Looking back and forth between the ink stain on the wall and Henry. But finally, a nod was given. The  _ prophet  _ holding out his hand for the animator to take.

“Yes, just as I said. I will follow the paths my flock once had. This will help to make you stronger, my Lord. I am sure of it. Please, take my hand. I do not wish for us to get separated.”

Henry seemed hesitant about the contact, even Sammy himself looked troubled by his own words. If the tension in the other’s shoulders was anything to go by. But nonetheless, the pair joined hands. Sammy tucking the GENT pipe under his arm before reaching out a moment later to touch the ink stain on the wall. And just as before, he sunk into it.

The  _ prophet _ seemed to do so easily enough. Easing into it as if it were just a drive to the park. But Henry, oh no. It was not that way for him. Sinking into the stain was not a pleasant feeling. It made his already numb body feel even number. Colder. Darkness taking over the entirety of his vision. He wasn’t even sure how Sammy knew where they were going. Voices rang through the ink. Some soft. Others loud. 

**ALL** of them asking to go home. 

A few times hands had grazed him before immediately recoiling back with a hiss or panicked screams. Ah, even in that tiny form, some of them still feared the ink demon. And could still tell the demon was there. Good, that kept them at bay. 

And soon enough, Henry found light entering his field of view again. Sammy’s hold on his hand releasing as the pair stepped through the  _ exit _ puddle. Ending up in a hallway that Henry wasn’t familiar with. Though honestly, it was hard to remember every single twist and turn in that damned studio.

“How do you feel, my Lord? I did not take us far, as I had promised I would not. Only two floors below.”

Henry actually felt...fine. A little disoriented from the darkness and the muddled voices, but other than that he was great. His legs weren’t shaking as they had before. Nor was his vision blurred. Short trips really were the trick!

“How long before we go again?” He asked.

“We should not linger for more than a few minutes.” Was the response he was given. Thus leaving Henry to let out a sigh. 

He wanted to ask Sammy how he could tell where they would end up. How the other could see passed the voices and darkness and still find a way out. But he figured that wouldn’t look good. Not when Sammy believed him to be the ink demon. After all, the demon would know how to travel through the puddles just fine and not require someone to tell it  **HOW** to do so.

At the moment, it was better to just let the  _ prophet _ believe that the ink demon’s new form had just weakened it temporarily. To make him think that the demon still had all its other abilities and would gain its strength back over time. To keep the fear alive. Also to make sure that Sammy wouldn’t suddenly turn against him and come at him with the pipe.

“Okay, I can go again.”

Henry finally spoke up after a few minutes of silence. Though they hadn’t been there long, he was already starting to feel uneasy. Feeling as if eyes were staring down at him, though every time he looked up, no one was there.

“Of course, my Lord. It will take some time. But I will get us to the village. Your lost souls will not be lost for long.”

_ ‘I hope you’re right, Sammy. I really hope you’re right.’ _

The pair joined hands again, and off through the puddles they went.


	6. Sent From Up Above

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the release of the new book and sequel game around the corner, I just want to say that anything revealed in those pieces of the series won't be canon to this story. Mainly because I've had the path paved out for this fic for awhile now and don't want to end up changing things too drastically depending on what comes out of the book and sequel game! But, that doesn't mean there might not be some references here and there!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter and as always comments/kudos are appreciated!

_ “Go inside. You’ll find him there.” _

_ Running. She was running. Her heart was pounding and her lungs practically burned from the effort. It felt as if it’d been so long since she’d been able to stop and take a break. Felt as if it had been so long since she hadn’t experienced any  _ **_FEAR_ ** _. But ever since stepping through the studio door, she had been nothing short of terrified. _

_She’d been promised she would find_ **HIM** _there. But who was the him she was looking for? Why was she so intent on continuing through that Hell to find him?_

_ “T-----!” _

_ Her voice rang out, yet it was muffled. It sounded as if she was trying to scream through a sea of water. Her shouting was soon drowned out by loud wailing. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see the large mass of inky beings trailing after her. Using their arms to pull themselves along. _

_ Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? _

_ “J---! Please! Please let me out!” _

_ She begged as she ran down the hall. Things started to blur. The scenery started to change. The wailing grew quieter until it was all but gone. The only sound now being her heels against the wooden floor and her labored breathing. _

_ Another turn and she was at the door.  _ **_THE EXIT!_ ** _ Sprinting toward it with what little energy she had left. Hope, hope was there. Grasping the knob she twisted and turned and yanked and pulled. But nothing...there was nothing. It was locked. But how? Had he…? But he wouldn’t! They...they were supposed to be friends! _

_ “J---! J---! I...I can’t find him. I can’t! Please, please I can’t do this anymore!” _

_ The woman sobbed, sinking down onto the ground as one hand still grasped the door knob. Feeble attempts made to still open the door. But it wouldn’t budge. She didn’t even hear the sound of traffic from outside anymore. Instead she heard...the sound of running water? Dishes being moved about? What…? _

_ “Shame,” A familiar voice rang out from the other side of the door “Such a shame. But at least you both returned home.” _

_ “J---!” She cried again. But now the familiar voice was gone. It didn’t dare return her screams. In its place came the sound of ink dripping onto the floor. The woman looked away from the door and her eyes grew wide at the sight she saw. _

_ A lanky mass of ink. A white grin peeked out from all the drops. The thing stared at her. It looked curious for a moment before it started stalking toward her. Clawed hand reaching out. That sent the woman into overdrive. Yanking at the door, banging on it with her fists. _

_ “J---! Please, please no! J---!  _ **_TOM!_ ** _ ” _

\----------

Alice no longer woke up in a panicked state like she used to. Instead she would just open her eyes and look to the ceiling for a few minutes. Spending that time to try and process the things she had just witnessed. To process...the nightmares.

She didn’t use to have them. Not until Henry came about. In the past, she would close her eyes and be met with darkness. Her mind would wander but she’d never...never experienced anything like she had in the past few days. Things that felt like memories. As if she were seeing through the eyes of who she used to be. But that wasn’t right was it? Wasn’t she always Alice? No, in the back of her mind she knew that wasn’t true. They were all someone or something before the ink. Before...something had happened with J---.

The name of some man that could never be pulled out. Was he the creator? Was that why in her nightmares she pleaded for him to let her out? Was that even her? They had her voice. She saw through their eyes.

If she thought too much on it, it gave her a headache. Which was depressing. She wanted to focus on those nightmares. She wanted to find some reasoning behind them. They’d started out so simple at first. Blurry images of a place that didn’t look a thing like the studio. But slowly they had morphed into the Hell she lived in now. That was when she started to wake up in a pool of her own dripping ink and screams.

Tom would be by her side immediately during those times. And luckily, she hadn’t ever woken Henry up when she’d experience them. But over time, she grew used to them. They even started to become...welcomed. Though they hurt to think about, she felt as if behind those nightmares held some answers. To who she may have once been. To who she could maybe return to. Maybe...just maybe.

But the most perplexing part was how those nightmares always ended. She was always at that same door. Always crying out. Coming face to face with the approaching ink demon. And yelling out that one clear name:

_ Tom. _

Sitting up, her eyes drifted toward the direction of her comrade. He sat there fiddling with his arm, one ear always up and listening for any approaching danger. His name, it was always his. Why in her nightmares was she looking for him? What had happened to him? 

Ah, her headache was getting worse. She had to take a step back for now. Last time she thought on it too hard, she hadn’t been able to walk without nearly falling to the floor. They didn’t need her like that right now. They had to keep going - though  **WHERE** they were going was another story. Neither of them seemed to have a plan. The only thing they agreed upon was to get as far from the demon’s lair as they could.

Well... **TOM** wanted that. Alice had been reluctant. The demon back in the lair...it said it was Henry. It looked so desperate for their help. She wanted to trust it, as foolish as that no doubt was. She wanted to talk more to it. See if its claims were true. But Tom hadn’t allowed that. And she couldn’t blame him, he was no doubt scared of losing her. Of her getting hurt. The ink demon was not something to be believed or messed with.

And yet...what if it  **HAD** been Henry? What if they had done nothing more but abandon him again?

“Are we going?” Alice spoke up from her spot on top of the crates, legs swinging over the edge in preparation to get up. Tom perked up at the sound of her voice. Giving a nod in response to her question. He wasted little time in jumping off his own crate, Alice following suit.

“Do we know  **WHERE** we are going?” Tom let out a huff at that, clearly tired of  _ answering _ such a question. But it was one that had to be addressed! They had no clear goal. No path to tread. The one idea that Alice had was always promptly shut down. But that didn’t stop her from trying to put it forward. Tom would have to wear down eventually, right?

“We could go back. Henry could still be in there. We have enough tools out here to build a raft. We could-”

Tom raised his hand and cut her off. Now it was Alice’s turn to huff. Arms crossing over her chest. Why was he so difficult? She understood being cautious, she was similar in that regard. But it didn’t hurt to take a risk now and again. Especially when it meant possibly saving someone she considered a friend.

“So that’s it? We’re just supposed to pretend Henry never existed? Pretend we didn’t see him walk into the demon’s clutches? He was our  **ONE** chance of getting out of here. We put all of our faith in him. All of our hope. He trusted us and yet you just want to leave him behind?”

At least Tom had the gall to look guilty. Eyes going downcast and ears falling slightly. She felt bad for being so harsh on the poor guy. He’d saved her numerous times. Kept by her side with nary a complaint. He just wanted her to be safe, and there she was, arguing with him. It made a bit of guilt well up inside of her, but not enough so that she wouldn’t continue fighting her points.

“We still have a chance, Tom,” Alice lowered her voice. Trying to revert back into her usual gentle tone “We still have a chance to be free. If we go back and look for him. Maybe what that demon said was true. Maybe that really was Henry. Maybe-”

A loud sound silenced her. The pair looking up to the ceiling as they heard the ringing of a bell. They were near the Lost Ones village. The bell usually signified that the prophet was holding one of his crazed services. Neither of them thought the prophet would be able to regenerate so fast. But faith could do crazy things for crazy individuals.

A plethora of Lost Ones and Searchers would be congregating soon. Too many for Alice or Tom to take care of. If they still had Henry - maybe they could have had a chance. But not now. They had to get away. 

The crackling of the old speaker system filled the room. The pair waited for the prophet’s voice to ring out. Both of them had wide eyes as a different voice crackled through the system. Looking at each other in shock as they heard it.

_ “Hello, my fans. Did you miss your angel while she was away?” _

Her?  **HER?** That twisted Alice. What was she doing so low in the studio? What was she doing in the Lost Ones village? Why was she even addressing them? That area was the prophet’s turf, not hers. She had no followers like him. Everyone seemed to steer clear of her just as they did the Ink Demon.

_ “I have a job for you, my fans. One that entails our revenge. We will get our creator. We will get Henry.” _

The pair froze at the mention of such a familiar name. That twisted fiend...she was after Henry! But did that mean...was he still alive? Was Alice not wrong in her hope? That thought made her smile, looking to Tom who gave her a huff in return. He could see the sparkle in her eyes and knew what she was going to suggest. Giving a shake of his head as a means to deter her.

Oh, that wouldn’t work anymore, old Tom.

“She knows where Henry is. Or at least...she sounds like she does. If he’s not in the Ink Demon’s lair anymore, then that’s okay, right? You didn’t want to go back there, now we don’t have to.”

Tom threw up his hands, clearly frustrated with the line of thought Alice was spouting out. Continuing to shake his head. But she could tell he was breaking down. Could tell he was realizing she was making sense. They couldn’t just wander around forever, he knew that. And the twisted Alice had just given them their next goal!

“We’ll be careful. We know that village like the back of our hands. And with how loud that woman is - we’ll probably hear her from outside the gates.”

The pair stared at each other for what felt like hours. Alice could tell her comrade was contemplating their options. Could tell he was breaking. And it took everything she had not to deliver onto him a smug smile once Tom sighed and gave a nod. A silent agreement. Oh, if he could talk, Alice could only imagine what things he’d be grumbling about.

“Then it’s settled.” She adjusted her belt and placed a hand onto her machete. Though she had confidence in the fact they wouldn’t be spotted, one could never be too careful “Let’s get going.”

\----------

_ “A fine machine, Tommy! Truly magnificent!” _

_ “It’s Mr. Connor. And I know it is.” _

_ On his left, Joey Drew bounced around from foot to foot. Looking over the prototype of the ink machine with absolute wonder in his eyes. It was the first time Thomas had seen a  _ **_REAL_ ** _ smile on the man’s face. One that went from ear to ear. Who knew that such a thing could be brought about by crafting a machine that did nothing more than drip ink. And again, it was only the prototype. Not like it could do anything wonderous just yet. _

_ To his right stood Wally Franks. The janitor was far more nervous. Looking at the machine with apprehension. Odd thing to have now. The past few weeks the pair had spent building the thing together, Wally had seemed outright giddy over it. Glad to be a part of something that wasn’t just mopping up the floors or emptying trash cans. But second thoughts were clearly running through the younger man’s head now. Though just why that was, Thomas hadn’t a clue. _

_ “What can it do? How long until we can start on the project?” Joey Drew asked as he approached the machine. Taking the chance to touch every little gear and wire that he could. If he broke anything and there were setbacks, it would be his own damn fault. _

_ “Right now all it can do is make a mess.” Wally uttered under his breath. Thomas glanced in the young man’s direction before looking back to their employer. Joey Drew didn’t even seem to hear it. _

_ “Makes ink. That’s it. But that ink has nowhere to go until we get the piping system set up. That’ll take a few months. Then if you want to start with making those life sized figures, that’ll take a few more months-” _

_ “Months?” The smile on Joey Drew’s face faded immediately. What a surprise, the man was impatient. He always just wanted results. Wanted them immediately. But that wasn’t how the real world worked. Things took time to put together. Not that Drew was willing to listen “We don’t have months. I want this machine up and running before we start construction on BendyLand.” _

_ “Drew, construction doesn’t start for another two months. Your attractions need to be built. Sidewalks need to be paved. Shit put together.” Probably not the best way to address one of his clients, but Thomas was done pussy footing around with Joey Drew “By the time that is all done it’ll be another year or two. There is plenty of time to get this ink machine of yours up and running and making those...things of yours.” _

_ Though if he was lucky, perhaps GENT would break ties with the studio. Though they came cheap, Drew managed to somehow miss every bill sent his way. A cheapskate was what he was. Thomas had dealt with them before. GENT usually dropped them immediately, but not Drew. Because he was their advertising pig. Putting their junk into those cartoons had given them booming business. But that didn’t make it better that they were practically working for the man in exchange for exposure. _

_ “I’ll give you a month to finish the piping system.” _

_ “A month? Drew, have you not listened to a damn thing I’ve said! I-” _

_ Joey drew placed a large envelope in his hands. Thomas raised a brow and opened it up. The thing was filled with large bills. The engineer counted through them in a matter of seconds. Next to him, Wally whistled. It was doubtful the janitor had ever seen such a stack of cash in one sitting. _

_ “All the money I owe to GENT. Back pay. Ah, Franks I’m afraid we won’t be able to cover your paycheck this week, by the way.” _

_ “What?” _

_ Franks was ignored shortly after “All the back pay and more. Incentive for GENT to have the piping down within the month. I’ve already spoken with your boss and he agrees with me.” _

_ Thomas scowled while Joey Drew grinned. The man placed a hand onto Thomas’ shoulder, giving it a strong squeeze. A grip that was stronger than what one would think would come from some business man “I think we’re really creating something special here, Tommy.” _

\----------

Alice had insisted upon leading the way. New found vigor having been pumped into her. Because there was a goal in sight. Because there was a chance they could get Henry back. A chance that they could have another go at getting out of there. She didn’t know how or why - but Henry was the key. He was different from the rest of them. He had a true purpose. And he had to play some part in setting them all free.

As they traversed the less traveled halls, they continued to hear the voice of the twisted Alice over the speakers. It was weird and uncanny. Because it sounded so much like her own voice. But now and again the twisted Alice’s voice cracked and shifted into something higher pitched. Such a range didn’t last for long. And it only seemed to come about when the twisted Alice broke down or laughed.

She was deranged. And she had to wonder how one could share looks with another yet come out of the ink so differently. What had they experienced in the inky puddles that set them apart? If she had spent even a little bit longer in the darkness, would she have come out deformed? Broken? Lusting for murder and ink?

_ “He betrayed his angel. Created her and then left her to rot. Just like  _ **_HIM_ ** _. Just like them all. We will have our revenge, my fans. I will have my revenge. He can’t hide forever. Not from me. Not from his angel.” _

“She’s annoying.” Alice huffed, the small sound Tom made behind her made it clear he agreed. The pair came to a halt and hid in the shadows as a few Lost Ones shuffled by. Some were making sounds as if they were crying. Others grumbled. Some dragged along the corpses of their brethren. Corpses that hadn’t faded away back into the puddles just yet. It was...eerie. 

Once the Lost Ones had passed, the pair continued. They were nearing the village. Soon the twisted Alice’s voice was heard clear as day along with what was repeated through the speaker system. Tom grasped Alice’s arm and pulled her over toward a vent. They’d taken it many times before when they needed to sneak in through the village but had to avoid the usual entrances. 

Alice once more went first, kneeling down and crawling through the open vent. Tom followed shortly after. They had become quite skilled at sneaking around through such passageways. Able to go through without nary a sound - not that they had far to go. A few turns before they reached their exit. The end of the vent leading to the inside of one of the makeshift shacks. No one seemed to be home at the moment. No doubt all of them were congregating outside to hear what the twisted Alice had to say.

“Coast is clear.”

Alice whispered back before carefully crawling out of the vent. The Lost Ones and Searchers seemed to have an aversion to the cramped spaces. And she would admit to the fact that she and Tom used to have difficulty with them too. But now it only seemed to get to them if they were in a vent too long. Alice could never figure out why that was.

“Don’t touch me! Back away! Stand over there, you disgusting little freaks!” The twisted Alice’s voice rang out. Venom clearly laced within her tone. She sure had a way of treating her  _ fans _ . How had she managed to take control of the Lost Ones and Searchers away from Sammy? 

The pair remained close to the ground, shuffling towards the nearest window that would give them a good angle of the middle of the village. Tom held his hand up and peeked out first. A moment later he made a signal and Alice looked out as well. She had to stifle a gasp at what she saw.

_ God. _ There were so many of them! Far more than they had seen when fighting alongside Henry. They could barely be held within the confines of the village. Some forced to stand on the docks. Some standing atop the roofs of their shacks. Some just laying on the ground with others standing atop them. And in the middle of it all was the twisted angel.

Amazing how she was allowing herself to be surrounded by so many  _ disgusting creatures _ . No glass wall to put between her and them. Was she just radiating that much confidence now? Did she feel as if she had full control of everyone there? Perhaps she truly did, seeing as none of the Searchers reached out to grasp at her nor attack.

She really had taken them all from the prophet. She was amassing an army. A horde that she was hoping to use against Henry.

That made worry edge it’s way into Alice’s heart. What if the twisted version managed to find Henry before they did? What would she do to him if captured? Rip him apart like all of her other experiments most likely. Turn him into an abomination like that giant Boris. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. She’d already failed Henry twice before - not again. Never again.

“He is here. Sammy can’t hide him forever. And we almost had them both. But  **SOMEONE** failed me. Failed their angel.” The twisted angel glared in the direction of a few select Searchers and a Lost One. They all seemed to look away, cowering behind a few of their brethren “I won’t let that happen again. None of you will fail your angel again. They are still lurking about. Disgusting things that they are, just like all of you. Traveling through the ink. Trying to escape their angel.”

That all but confirmed it. That Henry was still wandering about the studio. But with...Sammy? With the prophet? Why? That made no sense. The prophet had tried to  **KILL** Henry before! Why would they suddenly be teamed up? And what had they done to upset the twisted Alice in such a way?

“I want them brought to me soon. I want Henry to pay for abandoning us! I want Sammy to rue the day he lied to his angel! They don’t get to run away from all they’ve done. They don’t get to have their  _ peace _ . Your _ prophet  _ lied to you all. He made you think there was something worth having faith in. Well there is only  **ONE** person worth believing in. And that person is me! So go, my little fans. Find them!  **_FIND THEM!_ ** ”

Both Tom and Alice winced from the screeching of the twisted angel. How her  _ followers _ could stand the sound of her was beyond them. The pair watched as the creatures started to scramble about. Crashing into each other and stumbling around, but never, ever, touching the twisted Alice.

“It’s time for us to go.” Alice whispered, but where to? They knew Henry was alive. That he was traveling with Sammy. That the pair of them were in danger. But just  **WHERE** were they? That hadn’t been answered for them and once again they were left stumbling around blind and without purpose. It was enough to leave Alice in dismay, up until she felt Tom’s hand upon her shoulder. His way of trying to comfort her. Had he suddenly been pumped full of vigor too? Was he starting to realize just what she’d been aiming for?

“Tom-”

**_SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_ **

They both jumped at the sound. Looking up they took notice of the Lost One that was now staring them down. When had it…? No, that didn’t matter. The Lost One had alerted the others to their presence. The pair could hear the ink sloshing around outside. Others moving closer to see what was going on.

“Did you find some rats in the walls?” The twisted Alice called out “Grab them!  **_GRAB THEM!_ ** _ ” _

That was their cue to go. No use in being subtle or silent now. Tom grabbed onto Alice’s arm once more and ran over to the vent. The pair stuffed themselves inside and started to crawl. Alice spared one last glance back and saw a group of Searchers just idly sitting by the entrance. She knew they wouldn’t follow, but they would continue to scream. Such a grating sound that bounced off the walls of the vent and caused her ears to ring.

And in between the screams of the Searchers - they could hear the equally loud shouting of the twisted Alice.

\----------

_ “What is this?” Sammy asked with a raised brow and a heavy sigh. He held the music sheets out to Jack. His coworker wasted no time in taking the papers back and shuffling through them. _

_ “The lyrics to our new song.” The man replied, fixing the hat atop his head and wiping the sweat from his brow. Perhaps if he didn’t spend so much time in those sweltering sewers, he wouldn’t be drenched in sweat. Nor would he smell like one of New York’s back alleys.  _

_ “Those are supposed to be lyrics? And what is with that song title? I let you name a song  _ **_ONE_ ** _ time and that is what you come up with?” _

_ “What’s wrong with it?” _

_ “Gospel of Dismay? Really? You don’t find anything wrong with that? You do know this is a cartoon right?” _

_ Jack huffed, shuffling through the music sheets again. No doubt out of nervous habit. The lyricsists was a good man and was one of the few people that Sammy could stand. But now and again the other man could be just as unbearable as the rest of the staff there. _

_ “Says the man who named a song the Lighter Side of Hell.” _

_ The pair sat in silence for a moment. Sammy leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. Jack continued to wipe away the sweat on his forehead and fiddle with the music sheets.  _

_ “Touche,” The music director eventually uttered “The title can stay but the lyrics need to change. Drew will have our heads if we present that to him.” _

_ The scenery seemed to shift before a reply could be uttered. Studio walls faded away. Furniture was cast aside. The world seemed to become a giant blur. All save for the shadow of a person being cast down onto him. A muffled voice trying to reach out and get to him. _

_ “Get up, Sammy.” The voice said “Get up or pa will have your head!” _

_ “A----?” _

\----------

“Hey. Sammy? Sammy!”

His Lord’s voice broke through. Dim light entered his field of vision and soon the face of his Lord became clear. When had he let the ink pull him away? He didn’t often succumb to it, not anymore at least. Rarely allowed his mind to wander in such a way. But ah, that was certainly the first time he’d experienced...what ever that was.

Memories perhaps? Of his past life? He’d heard his name. A name that he hadn’t gone by since being cast down for his sins. Was it because of his time near his Lord? Was his savior giving him a taste of what was to come? Of what was to be returned to him. That was...delightful! It was only a few pieces and some of it still blurry - but it was progress.

Bless his Lord. Bless Bendy.

“Forgive me, my Lord. I...seemed to have let the ink carry me away.”

His savior frowned at that “No. No it’s fine. You’ve been doing a lot of jumps. Maybe we should stay here for a bit longer.”

They had traveled through the ink about five times now. When doing so alone, the prophet was fine. Probably because in the past he’d only been carrying his own inky weight. Only had to worry about getting himself out of the puddles. But currently he was toting around his Lord as well. And it certainly...was taking its toll. Not just in the form of those blessed memories, but the prophet could tell the ink of his body was moving itself about. That it was having trouble holding his current form. It was similar to what he’d experienced back when he’d been pulled from the ink the first few times.

“No, my Lord. I can continue.” He most likely couldn’t and would fall apart sooner rather than later. But he had a mission to complete. Every jump took them deeper into the belly of the studio. Into the lower depths of Hell. He would finish his mission and his savior would pull his broken body from the ink. But instead of being made of the fluid, he would be whole again. Free of the inky abyss he called a body.

“No, you can’t.” The Lord spoke, a hand placed to the prophet’s shoulder. It was a gentle pressure that was applied, but the message was received. And though he wished to argue, he would not go against his savior’s wishes “Take a few more minutes, then we can walk. It’ll take Alice awhile to catch up with us, right? We have time.”

The prophet could sense the hesitancy in his Lord’s voice. As if the other did not even believe in His own words. But he would say nothing on it. He did not wish to be punished for voicing doubts. 

“My flock. They may find us before she does. They are faster than her. They can pass along messages when submerged in the ink. If all of my flock have abandoned me. If they are all with her...we are not safe. Forgive me. Forgive them.”

Nothing was said after that. The pair simply sat there in silence. They would hear some wails now and again in the distance, but nothing that lasted long. Those wails would get closer soon enough. Just one more jump. One more and they would be near the village where members of his congregation once rested their heads. His Lord had said his lost souls were traversing somewhere near there. Just one more jump and he would be close to reaching his goal. To helping his Lord reach the end.

The silence was eventually broken by a crackle. The prophet looked up and took notice of a speaker lodged into the corner of the room. Soon a bell started to ring. One that was faint, but he could hear it no matter where he was in the studio. But no...he hadn’t...he was the only one to…

“What’s that sound?” His Lord asked.

“The bell,” He responded, “But...I have not called for mass. Why would they ring…?”

_ “Hello, my fans.” _

Her voice. It made both prophet and Lord alike tense. But how?  **_HOW?_ ** While his flock would be able to traverse the halls at a decent speed, she could not. If she was using the speakers, using what he once had, that meant she was already in the village. She had beaten them there. But that made no sense! The twisted angel did not travel through the puddles. She was terrified of them!

“She has taken my home. She has...she has gone to the belly of the flock.” The prophet growled, quickly bringing himself to his feet. He ignored the odd sensation that ran through him. Ignored the drops of ink that ran from his body and hit the floor “My...my Lord...I don’t know how. Forgive me. Forgive your prophet. I...I have failed you...I…”

“Sammy! Enough! You didn’t fail me, for heaven’s sake.” His savior looked more annoyed rather than angry. But it was still enough to make the prophet cautious “I don’t know how she beat us down here, but she did. There’s no changing that. We just...we just gotta keep moving.”

“Yes. Yes. If there is a puddle nearby-”

“No! Damn it! No more puddles. Not...not right now at least. We have to walk. We’ll be careful.” His Lord held the pipe in His hand. The prophet had offered the axe they had found after their third jump, but his savior had difficulty holding it. Thus he was given the axe while the Lord took the pipe.

They were armed and far from defenseless. But that did not make them safe. He knew how his flock could be when angered. And he had lost them. If they were to be attacked they would not get away so easily. The prophet would not be able to hold them back and the pair would find themselves in the clutches of the angel. But surely his Lord would find His strength by then, yes? He would cover the walls in ink and frighten the angel. He would usher in a new era and bring the flock back to the faith.

That was the ideal scenario. One that the lowly prophet held on to. But the road to get to it was not one he wished to travel down just yet.

“Come on, I don’t see anything.” His Lord was peeking out into the hallway. The prophet followed shortly after, peering down the darkened halls and not catching any sight of his sheep. But that didn’t mean they were free from harm. Any moment a member of his once held together congregation could pop up from the puddles. Why didn’t his Lord understand that? He should have known! His Lord was supposed to know everything about the studio.

So just why…?

“Let’s move out before they think about coming this way.” The savior whispered, and the shepard followed. The wails of the flock started to bounce off the walls of the hallways more often. The ink around them seemed to drip at a faster rate. That set the pair of them on edge. It didn’t help when the speaker system would crackle and the heretic of the angel would speak again.

She mentioned a  _ Henry _ . A name that had a familiar ring to it, but not one that the prophet could place his finger on. Was it possibly the name of that false chosen one? He was still there? Had the Ink Demon not taken care of him? Surely the angel was mistaken as that  _ Henry _ was long dead. Glancing down, he took notice of the tension that made itself home in his Lord’s shoulders. Again, just why…? Why did his Lord react in such a way? His false chosen one had made a fool of Him. Of them all.

Perhaps it was just the sort of tension that came with anger? Yes! That had to be it! His Lord was angry. Having to be reminded of His false chosen one. Of His...failures. But no, the Lord did not make mistakes. But He did. But He wasn’t supposed to. The prophet’s mind was swimming. As if his beliefs were truly being put to the test in that one moment. It was enough to make the ink that was his body shudder. He would have gotten lost in the flow of it if his savior hadn’t come to a stop. Holding out His arm to stop the shepard from moving any further.

“Do you hear that?”

“It sounds like...footsteps, my Lord.”

His flock? No, the footsteps were far too heavy to be theirs. And yet there were wails and screams that followed after the foot falls. A clear sign it was them. Oh, had the angel changed them in some way? Her experiments were so mind boggling and body altering. She could have easily morphed one of the weaker sheep into her newest plaything. It made the prophet’s  _ heart _ grow heavy. Though just a few hours ago he’d been chopping through his followers without nary a regret.

_ For repentance. _ He had to keep telling himself that. To give what he’d done a reason. Now what the angel did? There was no reasoning behind it save to sate her sick pleasures.

“Get behind me, my Lord. And please, forgive them. The angel has tainted them. Has blinded them.”

The shepard stepped forward to protect his savior. Axe at the ready. The wails and footsteps were getting louder. And soon enough they were joined by...panicked shouting? A familiar voice bouncing off his inky body - but the voice had far less malice than what he was used to.

“Wait,” His Lord spoke “That sounds like-”

“Go! Go!”

The pair stepped back as newcomers rounded the corner, nearly crashing into both prophet and Lord alike. An axe was raised and brought down but a pipe was used to cut it off. A... _ Boris? _ Ah, that was to be expected. Those things were everything. But that metal arm. The Boris that had sunk an axe into his head. The one that had possibly been the start of his flock losing faith in him. Oh...oh fury was now overtaking him. His axe pushed back against the other’s pipe. Both seemed to be an even match - up until the Boris’ started to lose his footing and had to take some steps back to steady himself. The prophet would not relent. He would keep pushing. He would send the heretic back into the puddles! He would-

“We don’t have time for this!”

He heard his Lord shout. That voice was enough to get the shepard to snap back into reality. Glancing down to catch the angry eyes of the other. That gave the Boris the distraction he needed as he pushed back against the prophet and sent the inky man falling onto the floor. The other’s pipe was raised but another shout caused the Boris to come to a halt.

“Tom, wait!  **_WAIT!_ ** ” Now the angel was speaking, stepping in front of her comrade just as the Lord stepped up to her. Wait...those two. They couldn’t be the lost souls that his savior had been hoping to find, could they? But...but angels weren’t redeemable! And...and that Boris…!  **_THAT HERETIC!_ **

“We don’t have time for you two to be fighting,” His Lord spoke up, though the Boris still held the pipe high above his own head “We need to hide or run! We just need to get out of here!”

“Henry? Henry that is you, right?” The angel peered down with a smile. And the Lord returned the gesture, giving a nod. 

_ Henry? But no…that was the false chosen one. That was not the Lord. That was not- _

**_SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_ **

_ “Find them! Get them!” _

The speaker system crackled to life and shook them all. It was ear piercing along with the nearing sounds of wailing Searchers. His savior grasped his arm and tried to force him to get up. The angel and Boris were already taking steps away from the nearing sounds, ready to run at any given moment.

“Henry! Leave him!”

“No! Sammy? Sammy! Get up and  **MOVE!** ”

The screaming grew louder. The twisted angel continued to holler over the speakers. His Lord shouted right next to him, demands to get up. The newcomers were frantic. And the prophet? He didn't have a single clue what to do.


	7. Fate is Locked

_ ‘So you’re probably wondering how I got here.’ _

**_‘HA! Now that’s the spirit, old timer!’_ **

Henry promptly ignored the little  _ friend _ in his head. He didn’t need the Ink Demon trying to aggravate him as he hid. His back pressed up against the front of Alice’s legs in the Little Miracle station. The one right next to them held Sammy and Tom. How  **THAT** pair was staying so quiet was a mystery. He fully expected for Sammy to give away their cover by now. But ah, he supposed he shouldn’t doubt Tom. That toon had a way of keeping people from acting out.

How did the four of them get in such a situation though? Stowing away in the stations as a gaggle of Searchers and Lost Ones passed by moaning and groaning. Funny story! Well, not really. In fact, it had been difficult to just get them to that point. And all because of one  _ prophet _ that Henry refused to just leave behind.

\----------

_ “Sammy! I said  _ **_GET. UP!_ ** _ ” _

_ He tugged on the other’s arm. But the crazy music director was an unmoving wall of ink. Remaining held fast to the ground. Henry should have just left him there. Should have just walked away. He got what he needed from the  _ prophet _ after all. He’d found his  _ **_TRUE_ ** _ friends. But at the same time, he’d known Sammy for years. The man didn’t deserve to be what Joey had turned him into with his ink. He didn’t deserve to return to those puddles for the umpteenth time nor be tortured by the twisted Alice. _

_ “Henry! Just leave him! He’s going to slow us down!” The good Alice shouted. Her own hand grasping onto Henry’s arm and trying to pull him along just as he was pulling on Sammy. _

_ “I can’t! He got me here! He’s the reason I’m not a puddle on the floor. I  _ **_CAN’T_ ** _ leave him.” _

_ He glanced up at Alice and saw the way she flinched. Perhaps feeling some sort of guilt for having left him behind back at the demon’s lair? Regardless of the reason, his words struck a nerve. She released her hold on him and looked to Tom with pleading eyes. The other toon shook his head with a huff. Making it obvious it wasn’t a good idea. _

_ The wailing grew louder. _

_ “No more leaving people behind.” Alice murmured. And that was how she got Tom on board. _

_ The wolf toon let out a sound that sounded something akin to an aggravated groan. Stepping forward and getting Henry to move aside. In one swift movement he was hoisting the  _ prophet _ up and over his shoulder. Sammy didn’t react, not even a sound of protest was uttered. Good, he wasn’t resisting. _

_ With that taken care of, the group ran down the hall. The wailing of the Searchers was nipping at their heels. A few more turns and Alice shouted “There!” pointing up ahead to two Little Miracle stations. As they approached, Alice opened one and Tom stepped forward. He practically tossed Sammy inside before following in. Holding a pipe to the  _ prophet’s  _ neck. A clear warning to the other not to suddenly snap out of his stupor and make a ruckus. _

_ Alice looked apprehensive at first, but soon closed the door to the station before stuffing herself and Henry into the opposite one.  _

\----------

That was what led them to where they were now. Waiting with bated breath as the enemy lurked outside. The ink creatures were so slow to pass when they weren’t actively chasing something. No doubt confused by the gang’s sudden disappearing act. It was a few more minutes  _ (supposedly)  _ until they stopped hearing the sound of inky feet and hands hitting the floor and stumbling about. Another few minutes before they deemed they were relatively safe and dared to come out.

Tom was the first to open his station. The door flew open with Sammy being tossed out onto the floor. The man landed flat on his face with a  **SPLAT** that made Henry cringe. But, to Sammy’s credit, he was still quiet and unmoving. Though the other was probably still in some form of shock. And Henry had just the idea as to why. That...wasn’t going to be fun to explain once Sammy came to his senses.

**_‘This is gonna be great! You should have let old Boris over there take him out when ya’s had the chance.’_ **

_ ‘His name is Tom. Now be quiet. I’m thinking.’ _

Alice and Henry soon removed themselves from their own station. The angel toon’s eyes ran up and down the hallway. Machete drawn out and ready for use should anything pop up. Or should a certain  _ prophet _ decide to act out. Just because the other had taken Henry’s side, it didn’t mean she fully trusted the religious maniac that was splayed out on the floor.

“Henry, I...I’m glad you’re safe. We both are.  **RIGHT** , Tom?” The angel looked from him to her wolf companion. Tom let out another huff and gave a nod, though his eyes never left the form of the man on the floor. Good to see that a few hours hadn’t lightened up the wolf in any shape or form.

“But, how did this happen? Why are you...why do you…?”

“Look like Bend-er, the Ink Demon?”

“Why are you so short?”

Henry blinked in surprise at that. He thought the other to be joking until he saw in her eyes that she was deadly serious. Ah, well, good question, he guessed. The Ink Demon was rather tall and sickly looking. Meanwhile Henry looked like the perfect copy of Bendy from the cartoons! A sort of form that Alice and Tom had rarely ever seen in their  _ travels _ \- save for on some scattered posters. 

The man sighed and gave a shrug of his shoulders “I don’t know. I really don’t. I went to confront the Ink Demon and-” And became fused with it. Oh, how would they react to that? Would that make the pair leave him high and dry? Any trust that might be there would be instantly broken no doubt. As much as he hated to do it - he had to lie. He’d eventually tell them the truth, once the time was right. Once they weren’t being hounded by a bloodthirsty angel.

“I stepped on a pentagram and this happened.” Half of the truth and half of a lie. He didn’t need to go into all the details “The Ink Demon disappeared after. It might still be lurking around, but I don’t know where. We haven’t run into it.” He gestured to himself and Sammy.

**_‘You’re digging your grave, old timer.’_ **

He continued to ignore the little demon’s voice. He had to remain straight faced to get Tom and Alice to believe him. The angel was forgiving and rather naive. But Tom - he could no doubt  **SMELL** a lie a mile away! The aforementioned toon looking in Henry’s direction. Giving him a once over before letting out his usual huff.

“The ink. It could affect you too? But I thought…” He saw hope drain from Alice’s eyes. The angel looking away with a sheer expression of disappointment. She wanted Henry to be her savior, she’d hinted at as much. And now her  _ savior _ had come back as the toon that most everyone there feared.

“Hey, just because the ink did this to me, it doesn’t mean I can’t be changed back. Or that I still can’t get you guys out of here. Or at least...make this place less of a Hell hole.”  Henry tried to lighten the mood, but it didn’t seem to be working. Alice’s frown deepened and even Tom looked rather mournful. They were both so tired of running. Henry was too. But the pair before him had been going around in circles for a lot longer than he had been. They just wanted an out - and the one who had planned to give it to them had failed.

The old animator opened his mouth to speak again only to be cut off by the sound of an aggravated hum. At first he looked to Tom, but judging by the raised fur and defensive position, the sound didn't come from him. Then Henry’s eyes fell down to the crazed music director. The man was starting to move. Pushing himself up into a sitting position before moving onto his feet. Alice stepped in front of Henry with her machete raised. His old pals ready to defend him should Sammy lash out.

But after all that, he couldn’t let them kill the  _ prophet _ . Sammy was just as much of a victim as they were. There  **HAD** to be a way to get through to him. Have him remember who he used to be.

“Hey, Sammy.” He didn’t step out from behind the angel, not just yet. Taking a risk to call out to the  _ prophet _ . His call was answered. The inky man glancing over his shoulder before turning to the three fully. His masked face looking between all of them before finally landing down on Henry. An eerie silence was held between them for a few more minutes.

Then Sammy let out a shout and  **LUNGED.** Poor choice in the end. Tom stepped up and pushed his pipe up against the other’s chest. Without his axe, Sammy had no chance as he was sent falling back onto the ground. Letting out another shout as he got back up. His full focus on getting to Henry and no doubt wanting to strangle the life out of him. Could that happen when he had no neck?

“You!  **_YOU!_ ** You took the face of our Lord! You dared to make me stray away from the path he had set forth! You...you  **USED** me! Made me...made me call you Lord...you...you…!”  Sammy tried to come forward again but Tom only sent him spiraling back down to the ground. Though now the wolf toon was just getting annoyed with the excessive shouting. If that kept up and they didn’t move, the Searchers and Lost Ones would be back on them. And it was doubtful that even Sammy wanted to be taken to the twisted angel.

Tom now sat on top of the  _ prophet _ . Pipe once more held to the other’s neck. Henry wasn’t sure how the anatomy of an ink creature worked, but it seemed the pressure was making it difficult for Sammy to say much of anything. The inky man grasping at Tom’s wrists and trying to force him off. The wolf wouldn’t be able to hold the crazed man down for long, so Henry had to act fast. Ignoring Alice’s uttered warnings as he stepped closer with hands raised. A sign he meant no harm.

“You’re right. I did lie to you, Sammy. But it was because...because…”

He had to keep lying to him. He wouldn’t be going under the guise of the man’s  _ Lord _ anymore. But he had to play into the other’s fantasies. Had to make him believe that he was still going down some righteous path that would result in him shedding all of that ink. Perhaps over time he could talk sense into Sammy. Bring him back from his insanity. But now was not the time. For now, he had to play along.

“Because I didn’t want to upset you. Because the Lord...he wasn’t ready for you to see him just yet.” Ugh, it left a bitter taste in his mouth to refer to the Ink Demon as any sort of god “He has plans for you. But first, he needs you to help me. You were right when you said he picked me as a chosen one. But you were wrong on the  _ false _ part.”

Sammy was still fighting, but Henry could tell the man’s resolve was slowly waning away. Letting the old animator’s words sink in and trying to make sense of them. Henry honestly wasn’t sure if his lies would work. The worst case scenario would have to be that they sent Sammy back to the inky puddles. An ending result that Henry desperately wanted to avoid. Opening his mouth to speak only to be interrupted. 

“Yes! Yes, that’s exactly right.” Alice stepped up, a nervous yet kind smile on her face. God bless her. She had caught on to what Henry was doing and tried to play her own part. No doubt sensing that the old animator’s struggles “Henry here, well, he followed your gospel. And when he found us after fighting the twisted angel, he helped us see the um...the unholy being that is your,  **OUR** , Lord.”

Tom was looking at them now with the most perplexed look. Shaking his head as if he didn’t believe even a crazed man like Sammy would believe such hog wash. Oh, well how wrong he was. And thank God too. The  **REAL** God. The music director’s grip upon Tom’s wrists had loosened. His masked face looking back and forth between Alice and Henry before it finally settled once again on the latter.

“You...fought…?” He tried to speak passed the pipe “The angel…?”

“Yes! Just...just like  **OUR** Lord intended.” He emphasized the word  _ our _ just like Alice had done. Mainly because it seemed to garner some favor with the  _ prophet _ . His believing in them subscribing to his nonsense would bring about trust. Make him believe they were like his other sheep - but loyal. And by what ever being on that green Earth was listening - it was working.

“He has plans for you. For me. For them.” Henry gestured to the lot of them “This was just the first trial, Sammy. We still have a ways to go. But we need you for that. The Lord wants to set you free.”

**_‘Oh please. Even someone like him ain’t gonna believe that-’_ **

“Set...free…?”

**_‘Never mind. I forgot. He’s stupid.’_ **

The fight in Sammy was completely gone as the words set in. Just the chance at having the ink that was his body taken away and replaced with true flesh was enough to get the man to settle. And speaking so highly of Bendy was enough to garner the rest of them trust. For now at least.

“Let him go, Tom.” The old animator spoke up. His words were responded to with an  _ oh so _ familiar huff. The wolf toon hesitating as his eyes traveled up to Alice. Clearly trusting her judgement more than Henry’s. Ouch. But understandable. The pair had known each other far longer than he’d known them after all. 

But luckily, Alice was on his side. Giving a nod of agreement to let the  _ prophet _ up. Though she still held her machete at the ready just in case. Naive she could be at times, but she was still cautious. Not that such a thing was bad. Henry himself held his own tiny bit of pipe in his hands.

Nonsensical grumbling was heard from Tom before the toon relented and slowly removed himself from atop Sammy. Pipe at the ready as the inky man sat up and rubbed at his throat. The creepy masked face eventually looked to the group of them. Henry almost expected for him to lunge again, but he didn’t. A few moments of silence went by before Sammy stood up and looked down at Henry. Uttering out a question:

“Does the Lord plan to kill the angel?”

Twisted Alice. That was who he hoped Sammy was referring to “Yes,” He responded with a nod “Yes, of course. She’s been going against his word. You saw how she was treating your um...your followers.”

Sammy seemed to approve of that answer before moving onto his next question. Masked face now looking at Alice. Raising a hand just slightly to point a finger in the toon’s direction. Tom didn’t take kindly to that as he let out a low growl “And why does our Lord allow  **THIS** angel to live and serve?”

“I’m no angel,” Alice answered in her own defense. She used the same line she’d used on Henry when she’d had him imprisoned “I may have her face. But do you see a halo above my head?”

Sammy’s masked face moved ever so slightly, just enough to give the impression that he was looking above the toon angel’s head. Soon enough he was looking back down with a shake of his head “No, I do not.”

Then he returned his gaze to Henry. One final question on the tip of his inky tongue “Why did the Lord give you His face?”

Oh, that...that would be tough to answer. Not even Alice seemed to have a good excuse for that, her brows furrowed in contemplation. Whether or not Sammy followed them all depended on how Henry answered that last question. And it had to be a  **GOOD** answer. Not something vague or dismissive. Something that would give Sammy the resolve he needed to trust in their little party.

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in Henry’s head. And seeing as he was a toon, he was rather surprised not to see an actual light bulb appear above his head.

“Your, our Lord. He knew your followers were faltering. And that’s not me saying you weren’t doing a good job,” Henry quickly added on when he saw Sammy ready to speak up in defense “But he knew they were starting to um, stray away. You were right when you wanted to sacrifice me.”

_ ‘Tread lightly, Henry. Tread lightly.’ _

“But our Lord knew the time wasn’t right. Because he needed  **ME** to take this form first before I could be sacrificed to him.”

He could feel Alice and Tom’s eyes digging into him. No doubt they were utterly confused by what he was saying, even though they knew he was just making up nonsense. Honestly, if he were standing on the outside, he’d be just as confused. Who in their right mind set themselves up to be sacrificed? 

“Because once the time is right and he’s ready for me to be sacrificed, then  **HE** gets to take this form and he’ll reward you beyond your wildest dreams. That’s when he’ll set you free, Sammy.”

**_‘Oh please. You may have gotten this schmuck to go along with you for the first few minutes. But he ain’t really-’_ **

“Yes. Yes! Of course!”

**_‘Oh for the love of Joey Drew.’_ **

“How could I be so blind?” Sammy started muttering to himself. Burying his masked face in his hands before looking back up. He bolted toward Henry’s direction and grabbed the man’s shoulders, shaking him with the excitement of a child that had just learned something new. Tom stepped up ready to pull him off, but Alice got in the way. No doubt just as nervous but wanting to see how it would all play out.

“That’s why He was so displeased with me the first time! Why our Lord was so angered! Because I had misread His words. I had misread the ink. The time was not yet right! I was a fool. Oh, such a fool!”

His hands fell away from Henry’s shoulders and instead clasped down onto his ankles. Sammy’s head went to the floor and was possibly gearing up to start mumbling his scriptures again. That made Henry spring into action, not wanting his legs to be out of commission again any time soon.

“Hey, hey! Remember what we said about that sort of thing? I don’t want you hurting yourself like that and neither does the Lord.”

The crazed music director looked up, suddenly finding himself and remembering their conversation back in the music department “Yes. You’re right, yes. Forgive me.” His inky hands let go of Henry’s ankles, soon coming to stand before the one he thought to be some  _ chosen sacrifice _ . Such lovely thoughts he’d put in the crazed, axe happy man’s head.

“We uh...we should get going. Who knows if those Searchers picked up on all the shouting.” Alice spoke up, her eyes darting around like that of a toddler that was trying to take in all of its surroundings. But her words were valid. They  **HAD** to keep moving. But to where?

“The Lord’s chosen vassal will guide us.” Sammy stated, putting Henry on the spot in an instant. Great. All eyes were on him now, waiting for some direction to be given.

_ ‘Well, any ideas?’ _

**_‘What?’_ **

_ ‘I asked if you have an ideas.’ _

**_‘YOU are asking ME for ideas? Old timer, you must really be gettin’ desperate.’_ **

“Henry?”

The conversation in his head was momentarily cut short as another voice rang through. Glancing up, he saw Alice looking to him with a hint of concern on her face. No doubt the scene looked rather odd to them all, seeing as they couldn’t hear the discussion going on in Henry’s head.

“Sorry, I was just thinking. I just need a minute.” He didn’t bother listening to any protests or suggestions as he took a few steps away from them. Placing a hand to his chin to make it look as if he truly were deep in thought as to where they needed to go. 

_ ‘Look, you’ve been trapped in this place for years-’ _

**_‘Thanks for the reminder.’_ **

_ ‘You know it like the back of your hand. And with how you spoke at your lair, you’re in on Joey’s plan.’ _

**_‘What makes you think he has some plan beyond givin’ me your soul?’_ **

He didn’t, honestly. Henry had little idea of what direction to take his little party towards. He didn’t even have an end goal save for getting them all out of there. But then what? It wasn’t as if the ink would shed once they all left the studio. They would no doubt still be stuck as toons. Not unless they got to Joey and had him fix it - seeing as he was the one who turned them into such  _ monsters _ .

_ ‘Because it’s Joey. And I’m willing to bet you know how to get to him.’ _

**_‘Even if I did, why would I tell you where he is? What's that gonna do for me, old timer?’_ **

_ ‘Like it or not, Joey lied to you too. If he’d been honest with you, we wouldn’t be stuck together like this. You have just as much of a bone to pick with him as I do. Maybe even more.’ _

A sense of doubt ran through his body. It was a shared feeling. Henry had some doubts about getting the Ink Demon to work with him. The Ink Demon was quite possibly starting to doubt Joey. Or doubt Henry’s words. He really hoped it was the former. Otherwise he’d have no answer for the others save for to keep walking around and avoid the twisted Alice.

**_‘His office. I’m not sayin’ he’s there. ‘Cause he ain’t.’_ **

_ ‘But…?’ _

**_‘But nothin’! I’m just hopin’ there is something there that’ll evict you outta this body that was promised to_ ** **ME!** **_‘Cept for your soul of course. Still need that.’_ **

Henry rolled his eyes, but thought on the demon’s words. Joey’s office. All that had been in there was a tape recorder addressed to Susie. What more could there be? Though at the time, Henry hadn’t really done much to explore the room. What with trying to pick up ink blobs to create pipes while avoiding the mismatched Butcher Gang. Could there really be more in there? Something that Joey hadn’t taken with him when he'd abandoned the studio.

It could prove to be a waste of a trip. It could give them nothing. But it was a place to  **GO** . And a starting point. The worst that came out of it was that they’d be empty handed. And from the office they could venture in the direction of the Ink Demon’s lair. They’d at least know to build a raft come that time.

“Joey’s office it is.” He murmured before going back to his waiting group. All three of them looked antsy. Alice and Tom still had their weapons drawn. Tom hadn’t seemed to take his eyes off of Sammy, no doubt waiting for the  _ prophet _ to suddenly flip a switch and attack them again.

“What’s the verdict?” Alice asked upon his return. He wished he had a more solid answer for her. He wished he knew what to  **TRULY** do to help them all. But right now all he was running on was the  _ ideas _ of his neighborhood Ink Demon.

“Joey’s office.”

“Who?” Alice looked perplexed by the name. Sammy cocked his head to the side, a sign that he was also confused by the name. Tom was the only one who seemed to recognize the name, but once he saw the look the others were giving, he was quick to shift his own expression into one of confusion. Hmm, Henry would have to ask about that little charade later.

“Joey. You know. Who the  **STUDIO** is named after. Didn’t you see the giant signs littered throughout this place?” Henry was still met with blank stares. Did  **NONE** of them really know who Joey was? Wasn’t he the  _ creator _ they all wrote about on the walls? The one that they said lied to them.

“Wait,” Sammy spoke up “The man with the J. That...is that what the J stands for. Joey?” There was a hint of anger in the  _ prophet’s _ tone. Though Henry wasn’t sure if Sammy even realized it himself. 

“I don’t know about any man with a J. But I know about Joey. He was the one that ran this studio. He was the one…”  _ That hurt all of you _ “Doesn’t matter right now. The point is, we need to get to his office. There might be something in there that could help us escape.”

Henry looked over each of them with a frown. Tom was still feigning confusion. Sammy somehow managed to look angry though his face was no doubt featureless under the mask. But Alice...she looked so...heartbroken. But why? Was it because Henry’s plan didn’t sound solid enough? Okay, valid point. It didn’t. But it was something right? And wasn’t she the one always going on about hope? So why…?

“Are you sure, Henry?” The angel spoke up, her frown deepening as she looked to him. There wasn’t just heartbreak in those eyes. There was also  **FEAR** . Though Henry wasn’t sure why “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

No, he wasn’t. But what else was there to do? He didn’t want to lie to them further. Because he honestly didn’t know if there would be anything in Joey’s office to help them. His old friend could have taken every bit of his occult garbage with him upon the closure of the studio. But...if there was just something there. Something that could give them the tiniest bit of a lead - they had to go. They had to try. They had to have  **HOPE** .

“I’m sure.”

The words stumbled from his mouth. Only...he hadn’t meant to say them. Surprise filled his body, and no doubt the expression of it was clear on his face. Both he and the Ink Demon in utter shock before realization set in on who had  **REALLY** been the one saying those words.

**_‘Oh, oh that’s some nice development right there.’_ **

_ ‘You...how did you…?’ _

**_‘Ha! Don’t ask me, old timer! I’m just as shocked as you! I just wanted angel food cake there to quit her mopin’ and to get movin’. But oh, oh this is GREAT! Seems like you won’t be the one in control for much longer.’_ **

No. No, that wasn’t true. He’d been lost in thought and distracted at the time. It was the only reason the demon had been able to take the reins and utter those words. Henry could feel the Ink Demon shifting around in his head and trying to push through. Trying to break the boundaries of its confinement and do more than just utter a few words. But it was failing, only because Henry was  **AWARE** of what it was trying to do now. His headmate’s frustration was quick to replace the initial shock. And though he knew the demon was kept at bay for now, how much longer would that last?

Because it was right, it  **WAS** getting stronger. And it was slowly gaining its own bits of control over their shared body.

“Hey. Henry? Henry!” Alice was kneeling in front of him, though he wasn’t sure when she’d gotten down to his eye level. Her fingers snapping in front of him and bringing him out of his momentary stupor. That usual amount of concern had replaced the fear that had been in her eyes “You looked stunned for a moment there and were just...staring into space. Are you really sure we should be-”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”  **HE** was the one to say it now. To give the confirmation. And he said it with far more confidence than the Ink Demon had. So much so that Alice and Tom both looked taken aback by it. The wolf toon eventually let out a huff of amusement, the faintest bit of a smirk on his face. 

“The vassal has spoken.” The  _ prophet _ spoke up, Henry had almost forgotten about him “The angel will still have my sheep looking for us. We should leave before they come back. They...tend to forget where they have already looked.”

Meaning they would wrap around back into that hall eventually. Okay, so, they had a clear goal in mind. But how to get there? Joey’s office was in the administration department. Which Henry had only gotten through while passing the Lost Ones village and falling through a hole. A pathway that was clearly out of the question. Had the layout of the studio been like it was back when he’d worked there, he could have easily found them another route to take. But it seemed as if during the years he’d been going, Joey had spent loads of money on shifting the entire place around and making it incredibly convoluted. 

“Alice, Tom. You two should lead the way. You know more ways to get around than I do. Joey’s office is in the administration department. Right outside of where you’d found me before we’d gone to um... _ that _ place.” He didn’t want to say anything about the Ink Demon’s lair in front of Sammy.

Alice caught on and gave a nod. A finger coming to her chin as she tried to plan out a route for them to take in her head. She no doubt came to the same conclusion as him that they couldn’t cut through the Lost Ones village “We can’t take the way Tom and I did to find you the first time. Those Searchers will be stalking around there too, probably.”

“Are there any other ways to get there?” 

“There are. They are just...longer.” She looked to Tom. The wolf’s smirk from earlier was gone as he gave his usual huff in response.

“Longer how?”

“You’ve been to BendyHell, right?”

BendyHell? Oh. BendyLand.  _ Really?  _ All the way back  **THERE?** Such a roundabout way to get them to Joey’s office. But...if it was the safer path...he couldn’t argue. He trusted Alice and Tom’s judgement on the matter. They would know how to keep all of them out of the twisted angel’s clutches.

“Are you mad?” The  _ prophet _ growled “The angel trounces around through the Lord’s playground as if it’s her own. What makes you think she won’t send my sheep there as well?”

“She can’t be everywhere at once.” Alice responded.

“But she somehow got down here as fast as we did. And we were on the upper levels of the studio before traveling through the ink.” Henry spoke up only to be met with a surprised look from Alice a moment after.

“You were traveling through the ink? You...he can do that?”

“Did I not mention that?” Henry gave a sheepish grin. His expression was only met with one of disapproval from Alice. Though she didn’t reflect on the revelation long, simply giving Henry a  _ ‘we’ll talk about it later’ _ sort of look.

“She can’t travel through the ink. I don’t think she can anyway. And even if she could, she wouldn’t go back to it. We’ve all heard her mad ravings before. She’s afraid of it.”

Henry wasn’t sure just when Alice or Tom had ever had a run in with the twisted angel, but it was no doubt before his time. Everyone had run into each other sooner or later in that studio. As expansive and convoluted as it was, they’d been there for years. They were bound to find one another eventually. Whether through good or bad means.

“We don’t know how she got down here as fast as we did, but she did. That doesn’t mean she knows  **WHERE** we’ll be though. So long as we stay out of sight of her and her  _ friends _ , we can make it to Joey’s office no problem.”

Henry knew there was always the chance of  _ problems _ in that Hell of a studio. It was doubtful they’d reach the office without incident. But the best they could do was take the safer yet longer route and hope for the best. Judging by the facial expression and body language of the others - they knew it too. Danger would always lay ahead for them, they just had to power through and dance around it.

With that established, they went on the move. Alice at the front with Henry trailing right behind her. Sammy stalked behind the pair of them with Tom taking up the rear. The wolf toon had  **INSISTED** on it, no doubt so that he could keep an eye on their resident  _ prophet _ . And honestly, it made Henry feel the slightest bit safer knowing someone he trusted had his back. 

They took many turns and hid in the shadows as Searchers would travel by. The entire time remaining as silent as church mice. Getting caught in what seemed to be the deformed angel’s new territory was not an option. Occasionally they would hear the crackling of the speakers - most of the time it would just relay static. Grating, mind numbing static. But a few times they would hear the voice of the twisted Alice.

Every time it made a chill go up Henry’s spine. Could she see them? She’d always had a way of doing so back on her old turf. But there didn’t seem to be any cameras in that section of the studio. Old fashioned and clunky things they were, it was a surprise that any of them worked at all. 

_ “How long do you plan to run Henry? Sammy?”  _ The twisted angel’s voice would call out to them. She must not know about Alice and Tom’s arrival. That or she just didn’t care about them  _ “My errand boy and my prophet. Hiding away like the prey they are.” _

Henry glanced over his shoulder to look at Sammy. The  _ prophet _ looked down at him in turn. Both had the same silent message on their minds. At least, Henry liked to think so. The silent message that the twisted angel was nuts and they’d both be in an even deeper Hell if she got her hands on them. Though he wasn’t sure what the demented angel’s obsession with the music director was about. He had an inkling of an idea - if who he  **THOUGHT** she used to be proved true.

_ “You make this so hard on yourselves. All those sheep are now my fans. And there were oh so many of them, weren’t there, Sammy?” _

From behind, he could hear the  _ prophet _ mutter something. Sammy at least had enough sanity to know it wasn’t wise to yell out and defend himself against a speaker system. That was perhaps something the twisted Alice had been hoping for though. That poking and prodding at them would eventually lead to one of them revealing their position. 

“Just ignore her.” The  **GOOD** Alice uttered, loud enough so the pair being addressed could hear “She’s wants you mad. That’s her favorite game.”

Henry looked perplexed by that statement. How would she…? There was clearly some sort of unspoken history between the pair of Alice’s. There had to be. The good Alice spoke as if she knew the other and the sort of things she did. As if she’d been trapped in the little  _ game _ herself one time or another. Just another thing for Henry to add to the list to ask about later. 

“Stop. Here.” The angel held out her arm so as to get the rest of the group to come to a halt. Before them was a vent that Alice immediately started to work on removing the grate to. 

“No. We can’t go through that.” Henry whispered with a shake of his head.

“Why not?” 

“Last time Sammy and I went through one, he was practically dripping out of his ink by the time we got out. I don’t know why, but I don’t think you guys and vents are supposed to mix.”  The music director said nothing in his own defense or to contradict Henry’s words. No doubt he silently agreed that the vents were best to be avoided. But Alice held fast, giving a shake of her head as she finally removed the grate from the entrance to the vent. Tom shoved Sammy forward, the latter nearly stumbling over Henry in the process.

“We’ll move fast. We...don’t enjoy being in them either. Not that we’ve ever...almost fallen apart like he has,” She motioned to Sammy “But this is the only option we have.”

“We could travel through the ink.” The  _ prophet  _ finally spoke up. And as expected, his suggestion was shot down.

“We can’t do that like you can.” Alice responded.

“Plus you almost fell apart last time we did that too. I still don’t think you’re recovered enough to do another jump. I don’t want us all getting separated either.” As much as he hated to admit it, they had to go through the vents. If they were quick enough...they could do it. Find their way through before Sammy became a puddle or something close to one “Will this get us right to BendyHell?”

“No,” Alice gave a shake of her head “But it will get us near our old base”

“Am I going to be put back in my cell?” Henry teased, glad that it made the angel smile a moment later. Though it was small, it was still there.

“No, not unless you want to,” She teased back “But once there we can walk the rest of the way. Or run. Depends on what we stumble into.”

Preferably nothing, but Henry knew that was just wishful thinking. He glanced over his shoulder to Sammy. Though the other’s face was hidden behind a mask  _ (and made entirely of ink) _ it was still easy to read his feelings on the matter. Henry always prided himself in being able to read someone’s body language, and right now Sammy just looked to be plain nervous.

“We won’t be in there long. Like Alice said, we’ll move fast. Right?” He turned to the angel for back up. She just gave a nod in response, which honestly, didn’t radiate a whole lot of confidence. Henry had a feeling it was going to be a longer journey than Alice was letting on. Sammy on the other hand, didn’t pick up on such a silent message. Letting out a soft sound that sounded like a sigh before uttering:

“If the vassal says we must go, then we must go.”

Soon after they all crammed themselves into the vent shaft, all in the same order as before. The perks of being small now made crawling through the vents far easier than when he was still human, especially when they came to more tightly packed turns. Alice was able to scoot around with little problem, but the two taking up the rear clearly were having more trouble. Both lacking the smaller frames and any sort of grace.

“Will you two keep it down back there? Tom! You know better!” Alice hissed, stopping to spare a glance back at the  _ rowdy _ bunch. Henry couldn’t help but look back as well, catching the annoyed expression on Tom’s face. The wolf toon, in place of speaking, just waved his hand in a dismissive manner before pointing to Sammy. Blaming him now were we? Understandable. The poor  _ prophet _ was dripping a few drops of ink here and there, just enough for someone’s hand to slip on if they weren’t careful. Ah, so that was the problem.

“Just a little farther, Sammy. Keep it together.” The old animator tried to motivate him, but it didn’t seem to even phase the  _ prophet _ . Henry could just barely hear the mumbling that was starting to tumble out of Sammy’s mouth.

“Just like the puddles. The puddles you can’t escape. All the voices again. All of them.” 

He couldn’t understand how the music director could travel through the ink with little problems, yet panicked in a vent shaft. But who was he to judge? He hadn’t been an ink  _ monster _ for long. Nor did he go through the years of trauma as the rest of them had. He didn’t get it, and he didn’t think he ever would. Regardless of Sammy’s panicking, they had to keep going. Alice had already started to move again. Henry followed only a few inches before he looked back again and saw Tom trying to shove the unmoving  _ prophet _ forward. The latter completely frozen.

“Sammy,” Henry let out a sigh as he quickly backtracked. He was easily able to turn around and face the other, giving the inky man’s arm a gentle pat to get his full attention. The masked face spared him a glance before trying to move downward again. Henry didn’t let it. Grasping the sides of the mask so Sammy was forced to keep looking at him.

“Do you want to get to the Lord? Do you want to be set free?”

_ Tough love time. _

The words took a few moments to sink in before Sammy mumbled “Yes…”

“Then you need to keep moving. You aren’t in the puddles right now. And you aren’t going back. This is just another trial from your Lord. And if you can’t get passed it, what makes you think he’ll let you free?”

He hated to lie and hold such fruitless hope over Sammy’s head. Because there really could be no  _ fix _ to what had happened to any of them. And yet there he was, using such things like bait on a fishing rod. Swinging it in front of Sammy’s face as a means to keep him going. And it worked. The  _ prophet _ remaining silent but giving a nod. Henry released his hold on the other’s mask and started to follow after Alice again - and the music director followed.

He didn’t know how much time passed after that. Every so often he would hear the  _ drip-drop  _ of ink. He didn’t dare look back and see if it was Sammy making such small noises. Hoping that it was simply just the sound of ink leaking from the ceiling and walls outside the vent. The crackle of the speakers and the twisted angel’s voice would occasionally reach them, but after a few more turns they were gone entirely. Henry thanked the  **ACTUAL** Lord for small blessings.

**_‘Whadda think she’ll do when she catches you?’_ ** The peace had been nice while it lasted.  **_‘I’m thinkin’ she’ll go slow. She’s into that sort of thing. Torture and what not. Really, something to be desired. I always broke my_ ** **toys** **_before I had a chance to do anything as sadistic as she did.’_ **

_ ‘You sound like you admire her.’  _ Or had a crush. He made sure it was a thought that the Ink Demon could hear. It made Henry inwardly smile at the small feelings of embarrassment he felt in the pit of his stomach - knowing full well it was the Ink Demon’s feeling and not his own.

**_‘Me? A crush? You hit your head or somethin’ while I wasn’t paying attention? Demons and angels don’t mix. You made that clear in the cartoons.’_ **

_ ‘Mhmm. The Ink Demon and Alice sitting in a tree-’ _

**_‘You can just stop right there, old timer!’_ **

It was childish but amusing. Getting to rib at the Ink Demon the few chances that he could. It at least took away the reality of their situation. Plus, and he wouldn’t admit it out loud, it was sort of fun to bicker and  _ argue _ with the cartoon he’d helped create. Even if said cartoon had become a demonic killing machine thanks to a certain  _ someone _ .

“What are you smiling about back there?” He hadn’t even been aware he was smiling up until Alice spoke up. The angel looking back at him with a small smile of her own.

“Nothing. Nothing. Just remembered a funny joke.” She took him on his word, shaking her head before her attention turned to a grate in front of them. 

“We’re at the end of the road, boys. At least...the first road.” 

Alice made quick work of removing screws from the grate, having the  _ exit _ to the vents open in a matter of minutes. The four of them crawled out, some more graceful than others. Tom practically shoved Sammy out, the latter stumbling out and hitting the floor with a  **SPLAT** . Twice in one day? Poor guy just wasn’t having much luck.

“Be nice.” Alice scolded her wolf companion - who simply huffed in return.

“You okay, Sammy?” Henry asked, coming to the other’s side. The  _ prophet _ groaned in response before sitting up and looking in Tom’s direction. If the guy had eyes, he probably would have been using them to glare. Sammy used to have the scariest glare back when the studio was still functional. And he was still...human.

“He  **PUSHED** me.” He said it like such an angry child that Henry couldn’t help but to look taken aback. His gaze soon fell to Tom who once more gave a dismissive wave of his hand “You saw that, yes, vassal? You saw him push me!”

“Don’t bring me into your fights, Sammy.” The smirk on his face was unintentional. But he really couldn’t help but find the whole thing amusing. Sammy and Tom - acting like complete children. The entire scene even got to Alice too - the angel letting out a soft chuckle. One she tried to muffle by putting her hand to her mouth. But Tom heard it clear as day and gave her a pointed look.

“Sorry, sorry. Just no more shoving, okay? If we’re going to make it to BendyHell, we can’t have you two bickering like an old married couple.”

She didn’t notice it, but Henry did. The slight twitch in Tom’s facial expression. How his usual frown seemed to hold more hurt behind it. Gaze falling ever so slightly. Henry wanted to question it, but thought it best not to in front of the others. Besides, Alice had already moved on, waving her hand to direct the others.

\----------

_ “And what will it doooo?” _

_ “It’ll do thiiiiiings.” _

_ Thomas chuckled, not daring to look away from his work, even as Allison sat at his side. Only around her could he find himself acting like a child again. Perhaps because it just felt so natural to do in her presence? The actress could light up a room with ease, brightening everyone’s day with just a few words. And honestly, Allison was what the studio needed. What  _ **_HE_ ** _ needed.  _

_ A light to shift through the darkness that had cast itself down on everyone there. Though Thomas knew just why that darkness was there to begin with. The memory of a grinning  _ thing _ looking up at him. A blob on the floor that didn’t speak with ink that rippled around it. Thomas had to quickly shift his thoughts elsewhere, lest his small smile fade and he cause room for concern. _

_ He didn’t need to kill the mood between him and Allison  _ **_AGAIN._ **

_ “You. Wally. Even Joey! Keeping secrets from me about this special project of yours. Everyone says you guys have been working on it for awhile now, yet haven’t said much else on it.” Allison pouted. _

_ “It’s an ink machine. What else is there to tell?” _

_ “If it was just an ink machine, you and Wally wouldn’t be working on it as often as you do. Besides the fact that a few pipes need to be changed and maintenance to be done, what else is there to do?” She leaned a little closer, becoming shoulder to shoulder with the engineer “Unleeeess there was something more.” _

_ Thomas let out a huff, putting down his work and turning toward the actress “Sometimes I think you only come down here to see me just to try and get information.” _

_ “Me?” Allison feigned looking offended “I would never! I certainly don’t have a bet going on with Joey’s receptionist to see how long it takes for you to talk. I could never be so cruel.” _

_ Thomas’ smile grew the slightest bit bigger. If anyone else would have said such a thing, he would have rolled his eyes and told them to leave. But not her, never her. Because with Allison, he knew it was just genuine teasing. Knew that she truly wanted to be there with him rather than just pester about the machine. Because whenever he hinted that it was best to change the subject - she would oblige. Rather than continue to poke at him like some other employees. _

_ “By the way,” Allison started up again once the engineer returned to his work “I was thinking, this weekend would be a  _ **_PERFECT_ ** _ time to go to this new restaurant that opened up down the street. Just a small little place, nothing fancy. But the food is to die for I’ve heard.” _

_ “Oh? And who do you plan to go with?” _

_ “Well I was thinking a certain  _ **_SOMEONE_ ** _ would be willing to escort me.” _

_ “Now you know Wally is a married man.” _

_ Allison laughed before she gave Thomas a punch on the arm. Ouch. She could really hit hard when she wanted to. Though the punch was only in jest. Thomas unable to stop himself from letting out a soft chuckle of his own.  _

_ “Very funny, tough guy. But you know what I mean.” _

_ Thomas once more looked away from his work. God, Allison’s smile was absolutely beautiful. The entirety of her was. There wasn’t a flaw to be seen - at least not one that Thomas noticed “The great Allison Pendle would dare to be caught dead with the scruffy and mean engineer from GENT? Ms. Pendle, what will your fans say?” _

_ “To Hell with the tabloids!” She declared, though both of them knew she wasn’t big enough of a deal to make such papers. Not yet anyway - as she so often liked to declare “Just think about it. You. Me. A large plate of spaghetti between us. You’d have to give me more, obviously. I’m a growing girl. But just think about it.” _

_ “I’m thinking I could go for some food right now.” _

_ With that, Allison hooked her arm around Thomas’ own, hoisting him up from his chair with nary a problem. Not that the engineer was putting up much of a fight to begin with. Allison could man-handle him any day of the week and he wouldn’t dare complain. _

_ “All right, tough guy. Then allow  _ **_ME_ ** _ to escort  _ **_YOU_ ** _.” _

 


	8. Liar, Liar

_ The answer they received had been expected. And yet still Allison had been disappointed by it. _

_ “I just don’t get it.” She mumbled to herself when they received the answer. Their RSVP invitation having been marked with a ‘will not be attending’.  _

_ “What’s not to get?” Thomas sighed “He said no. I honestly don’t understand how you didn’t see this coming.” _

_ Wrong thing to say. Allison shot him her  _ evil eye.  _ A look she reserved for people when she was thoroughly annoyed with them. A hard feat to reach! And Thomas had managed to bring it about with little to no effort. But it was the  _ **_TRUTH!_ ** _ Why had she expected Joey Drew of all people to accept their wedding invitation? The Lord knew that he and Thomas didn’t get along or see eye to eye despite having worked on certain...projects...together. Thomas absolutely despised the man and had only allowed the wedding invitation to go out so as to appease Allison. _

_ But he knew from the beginning what the answer would be. A big, fat  _ **NO.** _ Because God forbid that old hack of a businessman take time out of his day to celebrate someone else’s happiness.  _

_ “Look,” He had to make the situation right lest Allison be upset with him further “Drew is an ailing man. He was starting to go downhill before that studio closed. His health is probably just in too much decline to make it.” _

_ A half truth. Joey Drew had been starting to deteriorate rapidly by the time the studio officially went bankrupt. But it was doubtful that was the sole reason the man wasn’t coming to the wedding. Again, it was most likely because he just didn’t want to be there. And Thomas was fine with that - he didn’t want Drew there either. _

_ Allison let out a sigh of defeat at that. Putting the rejection down and shaking her head “I know you didn’t get along,” She started “But I still...I wanted him to be a part of this. If it weren’t for his studio, we never would have met.” _

_ And if that hadn’t happened, Thomas would still be a grumpy engineer doing odd jobs for GENT. Well...he still fell under that category. Only now he was going to be a  _ **_MARRIED_ ** _ grumpy engineer doing odd jobs for GENT. He wanted to say that meeting her was the only good part about having a partnership with Mister Drew. That the rest of what happened there was horrifying. But Allison didn’t know of what he had helped create. Of the monstrosity that may or may not still dwell in that defunct hole of a studio. For everyone’s sake, Thomas prayed every day that once the ink machine had been shut off - that the  _ demon _ died with it. _

_ But he supposed he’d find that out once the wedding and reception and honeymoon were over. Once they were married and everything was set - he would be returning to that studio. Not to investigate or harp on what had happened. No, he was going back for the parts he’d put into that machine. A hope that once he took things from it that it could never be reactivated. No one else had to pay witness to the things that machine had birthed. _

_ “I’m sure the wedding will go fine without him. It’s not like you’re losing complete contact with Drew.” As much as Thomas hated that. _

_ But it was the right thing to say. Allison let out another sigh and gave him a soft smile. She came to Thomas’ side and placed an arm around his shoulders “I guess. I just hope he’ll at least be able to make it to the christening of our child.” _

_ “Our child?” Thomas gave out a chuckle. Most men would have recoiled at that or looked utterly befuddled. But not him. The thought of having a child, well, it sounded nice. _

_ “We’ll be having one eventually. At the least five.” _

_ “ _ **_FIVE?_ ** _ ” Okay, now he looked taken aback. Which was the exact reaction Allison was looking for. The woman letting out a hearty laugh as she squeezed Thomas’ shoulder. Got him again! _

_ “I’m kidding, tough guy. I can handle at most two kids. And if they’re anything like you they’ll be a handful.” _

\----------

They were still on the move, and so far it had been going good. The wailing and screaming of the Searchers and Lost Ones was long behind them. The twisted Alice and her taunts were nowhere to be seen or heard. It didn’t mean they were out of the woods just yet. But they were at least getting somewhere. The halls they walked now were looking familiar to Henry. A few more turns and they would be at the old safe house. So long as no trouble popped up.

Sammy was still grumbling behind him. Arms crossed over his chest, slightly hunched over. Almost like a child who was pouting over not getting the toy they wanted at the toy store. It was...sort of funny actually. It almost reminded him of the old Sammy. And maybe that was a good sign? That some of the old grumpy music director was still in there buried under all the ink and demon worship.

“You can’t stay mad at Tom forever.” Henry finally whispered back with a slight smirk on his face. 

The  _ prophet _ didn’t grace him with a response, deciding to instead continue to mumble his grievances. Tom, who took up the rear, simply shook his head. No doubt ready to shove Sammy to the ground again if need be. Henry had half a mind to believe Tom actually enjoyed pushing the inky man around. Was there more history there than either of them let on? Though Alice had said they didn’t often linger for long in the  _ prophet’s _ areas.

Honestly, Henry had a lot of questions for them all. Why Tom had looked so saddened back when they’d first left the vents. Why the twisted Alice seemed so keen on not only capturing Henry - but Sammy as well. And speaking of Alices, what sort of history did those two angels have together? His curiosity was trying to push him forward into asking, but he had a feeling none of them would give him answers.

Everyone had their secrets down there it seemed. Even him. 

“Just up ahead here. You didn’t mess with anything when you busted out did you?” Alice teased him, not bothering to look back though as she continued to walk. The angel was on a mission and knew stopping for even a moment could spell trouble.

“Not much. Might have opened a wall and broke some boards. As is customary when going through the motions of a prison break.” He got a chuckle out of her then. Even from behind him, he could hear Tom give a huff of slight amusement. The only one who didn’t find it funny was Sammy.

“You  **IMPRISONED** the vassal?” The  _ prophet _ spoke up for all of them to hear. A hint of anger in his tone. Ah, they really had to be careful with how much they discussed around the other. After all, just because Sammy was playing nice now it didn’t mean he couldn’t snap. 

Alice was quicker on the draw than Henry. Almost as if she had a knack for pulling quick excuses from her rump. Was that just part of her  _ character?  _ Or part of who she used to be before the ink? “That was before he showed us the  _ Lord’s _ gospel. We’ve learned now. I swear.”

She said it with such confidence and genuine sincerity that even Henry almost believed her! The answer was enough to put Sammy at ease too. The  _ prophet _ staying silent for the tiniest of moments before going back to his mumbling under his breath. Looking back fully at the other now, it was obvious he was uttering his prayers. Henry didn’t miss the tiny bubbles of ink that kept popping up around Sammy’s shoulders. How could the  _ prophet _ not be in pain from doing that? Was it just because he’d been doing it for so long that he was...numb to it?

That was a sad thought. But it was also disheartening to remember the fact that most down there remembered nothing of their life besides what they’d experienced as ink creatures in the studio. That running from an Ink Demon, twisted angels and malformed Searchers was just simply the  **NORM.**

“We’re here.”

Henry had been so lost in thought that he’d nearly walked right into the back of Alice’s legs. The angel toon having come to a halt right before a wall. Upon that wall was a tiny symbol that would be missed by most if they were to give it a quick glance. A symbol that was half a wrench and half a sword. One that represented a traveling angel and her wolf.

It had been the way they’d taken him through the first time, rather than through the door. It was their  _ entrance _ . While the door had been their exit. Alice kneeled down in front of the wall, just below the symbol. She slowly and carefully pushed back the bottom of three of the boards to reveal a rather narrow opening. Like an oversized yet cramped cat door for them all to fit through.

“Tom, you go first.” She instructed. For once, the wolf didn’t put up a fight. Stepping up and crouching down before he squeezed through the narrow gap. It took some effort, but he made it through. Henry remembered when they’d first tried to shove him through their little  _ entranceway _ . Back when he was still human, it had been a difficult fit. Now that he was compact? Well, it certainly made it a Hell of a lot easier. 

Henry bumped into Tom just as he entered the cramped space. The wolf was no doubt waiting until Sammy was in there with them, rather than leaving him alone with Alice. But his  _ fears _ could be put at ease seeing as the  _ prophet _ squeezed himself in next to them a moment later. Out of them all, Sammy seemed to have the easiest time fitting through the gap. The ink that made up his body seeming to shift just enough to help him through.

Alice pushed through soon after, motioning for Tom to move so that she’d have an easier time doing it. Yet another huff before they were moving again. Darkness overtaking them once Alice allowed the boards behind them to close and take away the small amount of light from the hallway. Henry could practically feel the tension rising into the air. The lot of them all on edge - and mainly due to one another.

**_‘Huh, never even knew this existed. Your mutt and angel food cake got some heads on their shoulders.’_ **

_ ‘They needed to. Otherwise they’d risk having to deal with you.’ _

Ahead of him, Tom pushed some boards forward. The gap that brought them into the base was the tiniest bit wider than the one they entered through back in the hall. Tom had no problem fitting through it. Nor did he have any problem holding it open for the others to crawl through. The tension from before was still there, but slowly starting to ease away as they were greeted with candlelight. 

The opening let them out right next to Tom’s old cot. Henry had to step around it and advise Sammy to do the same as they exited. But that didn’t stop the old animator from nearly falling over his oversized shirt. Stepping on the bottom of it as he exited the crawl space and nearly toppled forward. The only reason he hadn’t ended up face first on the ground was because of Tom. The wolf toon catching him by the arm and keeping him held up.

“Having problems?” Alice spoke up from behind the boards that Tom had accidentally let fall back into place while helping Henry. She at least didn’t sound upset by basically having a  _ door _ slammed in her face. More amused, if anything. That didn’t stop Tom from looking guilty and quickly scrambling to push the boards back and let the angel through.

“Sorry about that.” The old animator sighed, hiking up his shirt again as best he could. It was a miracle he’d only managed to trip over the bottom of it less than a handful of times.  **VERY** lucky that it hadn’t happened while they were on the run or trying to hide.

Alice gave him a once over before responding “I could fix that little problem for you.”

Henry looked at her with an arched brow “You can? Do you know how to sew?”

The angel toon returned his words with a smirk. Holding out her arms to present her own ink stained clothes. Looking closer, Henry could see the stitch lines where the toon had had to repair previous tears “I’m not the best. But even a quick job would be better than nothing.”

“Do we have time to stop for something like that?” Sammy spoke up. The  _ prophet _ was developing a habit of remaining silent until some random point in a conversation. Then he’d just so casually throw himself in. Wait...that really...wasn’t a developing habit, now was it? Henry vaguely recalled the other doing something similar back in the days when the studio was still functional. 

“It’ll be quick,” Alice tried to assure them all “Besides, keeping your  _ vassal _ from harm by preventing him from tripping all over himself is worth the time, isn't it?”

Sammy went dead silent at that. Looking away from the lot of them to instead stare at an adjacent wall. Hm, Alice was getting real good at saying just the right things to shut Sammy up “Okay, so, Tom, why don’t you look around for any supplies that we might have left behind when we left? Henry, off with the shirt.”

“What?” His head swiveled back to the angel so fast that he nearly toppled over from the lack of a neck to stop him.

**_‘What’s the matter, old timer? Never had a lady ask you to strip before?’_ **

_ ‘Quiet you.’ _

“You don’t expect me to try and fix that shirt with it still on you do you?” That was exactly what he expected. Though he knew he really wouldn’t be  _ nude _ by toon logic, Henry still didn’t know if he’d feel completely comfortable without his shirt. He’d gone the whole adventure so far without wearing pants, sure. But again, his shirt had been covering his lower half. It had been covering the entirety of him. Though, he supposed  **THAT** in and of itself was the problem and the reason for their current conversation. He couldn’t be running around in an oversized garment that kept trying to trip him up if he wasn’t careful.

“You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before,” Alice teased “I’ve seen Tom without his overalls when I’ve had to patch those up.”

Looking in the wolf’s direction, it was clear to see Tom was embarrassed. Arms crossed over his chest and looking away to avoid Henry’s gaze.  _ Sigh _ . He supposed he really was acting ridiculous. It wasn’t as if there was truly anything for Alice, or any of them, to see besides the cartoonish body of a little darling devil.

“For future reference,” Henry uttered as he tried to pull himself out of the shirt “I think you should learn to do this without having to have someone throw their clothes at you.”

Alice rolled her eyes and uttered no response. Taking Henry’s shirt once it was off him and looking it over. The old animator in the meantime just stood there, shuffling back and forth on his feet. Looking down, he could really take in the change that the pentagram  _ (and Joey...and the Ink Demon…) _ had forced onto him. He really was just a perfect copy of Bendy. Even the little bowtie was there!

“Why don’t you go with Tom to look around? I’ll have this done by the time you get back.” Alice said, up until she turned the shirt around to the back and saw the multiple holes that littered it “Or...at least close to being done.”

“Do you really think it’s safe to split up and wander around? And to leave you with…”

He didn’t say the name out loud, instead choosing to glance in Sammy’s direction. The  _ prophet _ didn’t even seem to realize he was being talked about. Having moved on to poke around Alice and Tom’s old base. Henry had to wonder if he was looking for some sort of new weapon to take up. The inky man really hadn’t had any luck keeping hold of his axe since their join up.

“I can take care of myself.” The angel responded, glancing in the same direction as Henry “And besides, you two won’t go far. Just a few paces outside the door. If anything happens, we can still yell to each other to call for help.”

That didn’t make Henry feel reassured. Tom seemed to have the same feelings on the subject. Letting out his signature huff and shaking his head. His way of  _ stating _ that he was not at all pleased with Alice’s  _ plan _ . Alice merely rolled her eyes and turned away, waving her hand as a means to motion the pair to leave.

“You can’t always be there to protect me, Tom. I’ll be fine. Now stop wasting time.” The angel uttered. Tom took a step closer, no doubt planning to  _ argue _ further. But Alice glanced over her shoulder and delivered a rather stern look. A look that Henry hadn’t seen on her face before, but he knew it wasn’t something to be arguing against. Tom picked up on too, stopping in his tracks before huffing and turning toward the door. 

Before Alice could shoot her glance at Henry, the old animator made his way to follow after Tom. He’d already been on the end trail of Linda’s side-eye through most of their marriage. He didn’t need yet another woman giving him such a look. But ah, thinking of Linda brought a frown to his face. But he knew he  **HAD** to keep her image at the forefront, lest he forget what she looked like. It was as if the ink were slowly eating away at his memories. Taking them from him bit by bit. And unfortunately starting with the fading of his wife.

The pair of them spared a glance at Sammy before they dared to exit the abandoned safe house. The  _ prophet _ still had himself preoccupied with searching around the small area. Having gone to the spot that had once been Henry’s prison cell. Looking at it sent shivers up his spine. Remembering the odd messages he’d seen in there. Still wondering just who had written them. He had half a mind to ask Alice and Tom if they had trapped someone back there before he’d come along. If someone hadn’t been there before...who could have written those glowing messages on the walls? Or hidden the pipe in the back of the toilet.

“Alice will be fine.” He tried to reassure Tom as he heard the wolf let out a low growl. Eyes narrowed in the direction of Sammy “We’ll just be right outside. And we’ll be quick.”

His words didn’t seem to make any tension leave Tom’s shoulders, but the wolf toon eventually complied. Looking back in Alice’s direction to give a concerned look. Shooting one last glare into the back of Sammy’s form. Then eventually exiting the safe house with Henry following at his heels

The hallway was still a mess. Nothing had changed since he had gone through it the first time. Hell, could it even be called a hallway? To Henry, it just felt like some mismatched tunnel. No Searchers popped out at them, no doubt still looking for the group down on the lower levels. Hopefully.

After a few steps out the entranceway, Tom pointed at Henry before pointing to a section of boxes off to their right. A signal for the old animator to search over there for any supplies. Tom didn’t give him much time to protest  _ (not that he was going to anyway) _ seeing as the wolf turned on his heels and went off to the pairs left. Breaking open a box with ease and scouring through the items that had been left inside. 

Henry didn’t have a robotic arm to bust things open as easily as Tom, but well, he’d manage. Somehow. Maybe there was a crowbar left behind. Or perhaps the boxes were so weathered that if he pulled hard enough he could loosen some of the boards that were just barely holding them together.

They were well meaning thoughts to have. Henry walking up to a box and trying to pry at one of the loose boards. It creaked and groaned against his effort, but didn’t seem to budge. From behind him he could hear Tom continuing to break down boxes and shuffle through items. By the time Henry managed to take a peek into  **ONE** of the boxes, Tom had already searched through four.

The pair looked at one another eventually. Tom glancing at Henry’s progress and letting out a sound that was akin to a chuckle. 

“We all can’t have your sort of strength, you know.” Henry responded to the sound with a comment of his own. Letting out a huff in the process. Tom’s response was to yet again make that chuckling sound before returning to his  _ work. _

**_‘Show off.’_ **

_ ‘You’re telling me.’ _

Henry shook his head before returning to his own job. He’d managed to bend one of the boards just a little bit. Enough so that he could peek into the box and see a few lumps that resembled objects laying inside. He tried to tug at the board again, but no luck. With how things were going, he’d put in all that effort to open the box only to find there was nothing more than those annoying Bendy dolls inside of it.

**_‘Hey! Those things are a work of art!’_ **

_ ‘They don’t even look anything like Bendy.’ _

He felt a tinge of upset pierce his heart. He knew it was from the demon. No doubt not looking  _ on model _ was still a tough subject to breach. Perhaps that was why the demon liked the dolls so much. Neither it nor the toys looked like the cartoon character they were designed to take after. No gloves  _ (sans the demon’s one) _ . A crooked smile. Horns that were too big. 

**_‘You better not be pityin’ me, old timer!’_ **

_ ‘I’m not.’ _

**_‘Oh please. As if I can’t feel the amount of pity just rollin’ off you.’_ **

Henry rolled his eyes before cutting the conversation short and returning to his current task. Breaking down the box wasn’t getting him anywhere. And he didn’t want to go through all the trouble of opening it just to find something useless inside. Thus, he set his sights on finding a flashlight. He’d stumbled across a few of them while traversing the studio. Surely one had to be lying around somewhere in that tunnel-like hallway.

He did a once over of his side, no sign of a flashlight. Turning his attention to Tom’s side, he looked to the items that had been found by the other. Tom had managed to pile things up into two piles. Henry could only assume one pile was for useful items and the other for things meant to be left behind. Tom was too busy continuing to break down things on his side, not even sparing Henry a glance as the old animator trounced over and started to dig through the piles.

“Aha!” He let out a triumphant sound as he produced a flashlight from what was presumably the  _ keep _ pile. Tom finally spared him a look, quirking a brow before shaking his head and turning his attention elsewhere once more.

Henry paid the wolf no mind. Testing the flashlight before returning to his own side. He was prepared to finally peek into the contents of the box when something else caught his eye. The light of his flashlight fell onto something. Something that the light glinted off of and managed to be caught in Henry’s peripheral vision. At first, he thought it best to pay it no mind. He’d barely managed to help in finding any sort of supplies.

But at the same time, well, curiosity was a Hell of a thing. He inclined his head slightly and saw what his flashlight had reflected off of. A hole in the wall. But a boarded up hole - one that had looked to be hastily closed off what with that amount of space between the three boards that attempted to cover the hole. Nothing there seemed as if it could reflect off the light of the flashlight - save for the nails holding the boards in place. But he didn’t think such small objects could cause such a glint. 

Against his better judgement, he moved forward. Henry had enough space between the boards to look into the hole, as well as shine his flashlight. The hole wasn’t that big. About the size of kitchen sink. In the back of it was what looked to be an audio player. The light of the flashlight reflecting off it a few times as Henry looked to see if the hole held anything else.

But no. Just the audio player. But why had it been hidden in such a way? Sure, he’d found a few of the things in odd places. Grant’s was behind a boarded up door. Shawn’s behind moving shelves that held those horrendous dolls. One of his own stored away in some back room that he’d never been to while working there.

But the audio player in the hole looked as if it had been deliberately hidden. As if someone really didn’t want it to be found and tried to get rid of it as quickly as possible. That possibility only served to make Henry all the more curious. Wondering what sort of  _ secrets _ the audio player may hold. Probably not a whole lot. But maybe just some more insight as to what had led to the studios downfall. A look into what some other employee there had experienced. 

Henry put down the flashlight and knelt down. The gap between the middle and bottom board was enough for him to stick his arm through. His fingers grazing the audio player - but only just barely. Curse his shortened arm length! 

**_‘Just stretch your arm out, old timer!’_ **

_ ‘Excuse me for not knowing how to do that.’ _

**_‘Well, if you’d just step aside and let me-’_ **

_ ‘No.’ _

Henry had himself pressed up against the boards, straining to reach the most important button on the audio player -  _ play _ . His fingers grazed the buttons. With one last push of his body against the boards, the force gave him enough reach for the slightest of seconds. The audio player coming to life as the tip of Henry’s finger made contact with the  _ play _ button.

_ “The studio is failing. Joey won’t admit to it. No one will. But it is.” _

The voice was a familiar one. Henry frowned as he leaned back and listened to it. A woman’s voice. One that he’d heard mocking him. One that he’d heard threatening to kill him. But also one that’d he’d heard telling him to have hope. Asking him to help them.

_ Alice Angel _ .  __ No. Not the toon. The toon just borrowed the voice from another.

_ Allison Pendle. _

_ “I don’t want to stop voicing Alice. Loaning my voice to her was my first big break. Even if it meant stepping on Susie’s toes. I still feel guilty about that. I broke down her success just to uplift mine. It wasn’t fair.”  _ The woman sounded remorseful. And for the faintest of seconds, Henry swore he heard a  _ sniffle _ . As if the woman was trying to compose herself. Trying not to let herself cry.

_ “Thomas will still tell me it wasn’t my fault. That if I hadn’t taken the job, Joey would have found a replacement anyway. But it still doesn’t make it right that I accepted. And what was it for? The studio  _ **_IS_ ** _ failing. It gave me my start. It got my name out there. But to everyone that worked here, I’ll just be known as the girl that stole a job.” _

Henry barely registered the sound of approaching footsteps. Too busy listening to the words of Allison Pendle. He didn’t know a single thing about the woman. Save for the fact she became the voice of Alice once Susie was fired. She must have gone on to become some well known actress eventually - what with how she seemed to talk in the tape. But Henry couldn’t recall ever seeing her name in papers or movie listings.

_ “I’m torn between wanting this place to fail and wanting it to stay. But maybe...maybe it’s for the best. I can start fresh with other studios. I already have so many job offers piling in. And Thomas...Thomas would be so happy to stop working here. GENT keeps making him come back but I can see the toll this place has on him.” _

A low bearing growl was heard from Henry’s left. The old animator looked up only to be met by Tom’s angered expression. The wolf having fallen into a snarl. The sort of look that hadn’t been shot in Henry’s direction since he’d been locked up in that makeshift prison cell. 

_ “I don’t know what it is about this place that does this to him. But Tom’s keeping secrets. And it’s eating him up inside everyday.” _

The click of the audio player signaled it’s end. Tom let out another low growl. Eyes narrowed at Henry. Such a fierce glare. It took the old animator a moment to realize just  **WHY** the other was looking at him in such a way. And he felt stupid for not putting so many dots together sooner.

“Thomas. Tom. Thomas...Thomas  **_CONNOR?_ ** ”

The gruff sounding man from a few of those other tapes Henry had seen lying around. Most of the time, the engineer was going on about the piping and the ink machine. How he’d helped play a part in it’s creation as well as the creation of the demon. And there was a mention of him back on that one note in Joey’s house. The one that Henry had spared the quickest of glances.

Tom stamped his foot on the ground at the mention of the name. Pointing at Henry as if to say  _ don’t say that again _ . And to his credit, he didn’t. But that wasn’t going to stop him from voicing the rest of his thoughts. Not allowing Tom to intimidate him into silence as Henry narrowed his own eyes and came to stand.

“But that is who you are isn’t it? And you...you remember?”

Unlike so many of the others. Sammy and the twisted Alice seemed to have very vague ideas of who they used to be. But not enough so to remain sane or intact. The good Alice had said she didn’t remember a single thing about who she used to be and why she was the way she was now. And anyone else Henry had met there seemed to be on one of those levels. Vague ideas of who they once were or not remembering at all.

But Tom. He seemed to know more. Seemed to have so much more of his thoughts and memories intact. If his forlorn looks at Alice and his reaction to the tape and hearing his own name were any indications.

“And that,” He motioned to the hole that had the tape sitting snugly inside of it “That’s Allison Pendle, right? Or…” He recalled the letter he’d seen back in Joey’s home. The name signed off at the bottom “Allison...Connor?”

Now it was starting to click. Why he’d never seen any  _ Pendle _ in any billings for movies or cartoons. Because she wasn’t a Pendle anymore - not when her acting career finally started to take off. Because she was a Connor. And the name  _ Allison Connor _ had been seen far more times in the paper. Up until her disappearance, along with that of her husband. A scandal of the century people had called it. No one having a clue where the pair had gone.

Up until now.

Tom stamped his foot once more and reached his metal hand out to grab Henry. He barely managed to dodge it by backing up. Tom’s fingers grazing his bowtie. The wolf didn’t let that stop him from coming at Henry again. The pair doing the same song and dance up until Henry was up against a wall. Finally Tom was able to grab a hold of him by the bowtie and lift Henry off the ground. The old animator couldn’t help but to let out a yelp as his feet left the floor - left dangling in the air as Tom continued to glare at him.

“But I’m right! Aren’t I?” It was probably better if he’d just kept his mouth shut. But what had been done was done. He knew. Tom knew he knew. There wasn’t anything either of them could do to make the other forget “You put that tape in there, didn’t you? You didn’t want her to find out.”

Tom’s grip on the bowtie tightened slightly. The other was having no difficulty holding Henry up in the air - but even still the wolf’s arm was shaking. Henry was hitting a load of nerves - and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“She deserves to remember just as much as you, Tom.”

Henry uttered the words with a frown. A part of him could understand where Tom was coming from. If it had been Linda who’d been reborn as some inky angel-esque toon with no memories - would Henry have the heart to tell her who she really was? To have her remember or just realize what she had lost? But then he had to ask himself, could he live with the fact that she’d always question who she was and never tell her the truth?

He had no doubt Tom asked himself those same questions everyday. And, up to that point, had always gone with the option to never tell Allison. To let her continue to believe she was just an  _ Alice _ that ended up in a bad situation. And that he was just some Boris that was along for the ride. The whole thing wasn’t fair to either of them. It wasn’t fair that Tom remembered and had to live with the guilt of what he had done in the past and what he was doing now. And it wasn’t fair to Allison to not know anything besides what she’d experienced in the horror story that was the studio.

“And you deserve to have her know who you are. Who you **REALLY** are.”

Everyone in the studio always said Henry was a good voice of reason - especially when it came to talking Joey out of something stupid. And he would have liked to believe that in his old age, he’d only gotten better at helping people see reason and make good choices. Watching as Tom’s anger lessened just the slightest bit. How his arm lowered before soon he had Henry back on the ground. Though the grip on the bowtie was still there.

**_‘Huh, you know, this guy had a lot less anger issues back when he kept me stashed in his office.’_ **

_ ‘Be quiet.’ _

Though that would be a story for the demon to elaborate on later.

“Tom,” He uttered to get the wolf’s attention. Tom had taken to staring at the floor, though hearing his name got him to look at the old animator. The snarl from before was gone - replaced with a deep rooted frown and a troubled look “Let her remember. What comes after, we’ll deal with it. Together. But if we do get out of here. Out of the studio…”

If they ever did. 

“If we get out of here...she’s going to need to know who she was before all of this.”

Henry motioned to the entirety of the hallway. A silent gesture that he meant the entirety of the studio. It wasn’t fair to make Allison believe that the only sort of world to exist was one where everything was made of ink and one constantly had to live in fear. A world where a demon roamed freely and could tear one apart if they weren’t careful. Allison  **HAD** to remember the happier times of her life. Of who she had once been. Of who she could still be again some day.

A soft huff escaped from Tom, his hold on Henry was finally relinquished. The wolf standing up tall and shaking his head. For a second, Henry thought his words hadn’t done anything more than get Tom to back down. But soon after that thought, the wolf was making his way to the hole in the wall. Easily tearing down the boards and setting them aside. Soon enough, the audio player was in his hands. Tom spared a glance toward the entranceway of the safe house. Then he looked to Henry with a look that asked if it really was the right decision to make.

“It is.”

\----------

_ The trip had better not amount to nothing. He kept telling himself that over the course of the few days that had passed. Traveling from one state to another in his old pick-up truck. The thing was on its last leg and it was a miracle it had managed to get him to New York without breaking down. But he would need it to bring back his invention. Allison’s tiny car couldn’t carry a single gear much less a whole machine. _

_ “And you’re sure it’s there? Everything returned and back where it should be?” The aging engineer asked as he glanced at his passenger.  _

_ “Oh, I’m sure. Stop worrying so much, Tommy.” _

_ The man scowled at the nickname. He’d been scowling that entire trip. The look only growing deeper as the days flew by. He had told himself he’d never contact the sham that was Joey Drew ever again. That the old man was just a dead memory of a darker time. He’d tried to convince Allison to cut off ties as well - but that woman was stubborn. _

_ “He brought us together!” _

_ She would always say to him. And that would be the end of the discussion. She’d continue to talk to the old man while Thomas remained distant - up until now. Joey had actually addressed a letter to  _ **_HIM_ ** _. Not to Allison. But Thomas. He had almost taken it and thrust it in the fireplace. But curiosity had outweighed him in those moments. Reading the contents of the letter and making plans to head to New York right away. _

_ His stolen invention was back. And at the time, he didn’t ask questions. For years he had worried over where the thing had gone. Who had taken it and what they could have done. In the wrong hands, the ink machine could create disaster. And everyday Thomas woke up wondering if he’d hear about inky beings attacking some city.  _

_ As he’d made his way from one state to another, he had to ask himself how it’d gotten back to the studio. Why Joey hadn’t made any mention of an arrest. Why he hadn’t heard of one in the papers. He’d seen the release about it being stolen in the first place - an article that he had fought to keep out of the public eye. But Joey had insisted. Had said it would help them find their missing invention a lot faster.  _

_ Ha.  _ **_THEIRS_ ** _. More like his and only his. Joey had done nothing more than throw money at him for its creation and continue to talk about how it would one day do great things. Then he allowed it to be stolen. _

_ Sham of a man. _

_ “We’re here.” Thomas parked the truck and glared at what was before him. The old studio. Run down with not a single occupant taking it up. They had both agreed to park in the back so as to not disrupt those who were bustling around in the front. No one on Broadway had to see them toting out an old machine piece by piece. _

_ “Now why such a face, Tommy? Is it truly so bad to be back here?” Joey asked with a chuckle. Thomas didn’t grace him with a response. Instead stepping out of the truck and grabbing his toolbox from he back. It was going to be a long process - but he was determined to get it done. Joey soon joined him, cane in hand as he made way toward the building. _

_ “What about your chair?” Thomas called out as he gestured to the old man’s wheelchair that was sitting in the pick-up’s bed. Joey didn’t even spare him a glance, instead shaking his head and advancing on the old studio building. _

_ “No need. We’ll only be a few minutes.” _

_ Thomas quirked a brow at that. It’d be far more than a few minutes. A few hours at best, and that was if he worked fast and took no breaks. If Joey thought they’d be leaving any sooner than that, well, he’d have to find another ride home. But if the old man wanted to struggle along on his cane rather than use his wheelchair, then fine. Thomas wasn’t going to argue. _

_ Joey made way for the fire escape while Thomas had prepared to go in through the back entrance. Once again the older man’s actions had the engineer quirking a brow and looking confused “Where are you going?” _

_ “To the art department, of course.” Joey chuckled, placing his cane under his arm as he grabbed the ladder to start climbing up the fire escape “That’s where the machine is, after all. It will be much quicker this way. Now you see why I didn’t want to bring my chair.” _

_ To Thomas; surprise, the older man was able to shimmy up the ladder of the escape and start making his way up the metal steps. Thomas eventually followed after, able to catch up to Joey with ease. The pair only had to stop twice so that Joey could catch his breath. God have mercy, if that man were to have a heart attack just from climbing a few steps. _

_ “Go ahead. It’s open. I just need to take another break.” _

_ Joey spoke up as they reached the fourth floor of the building. The lone door that led inside was just barely hanging on by its hinges. Thomas carefully opened it and glanced inside, greeted by a hallway that was only just barely lit from the sunlight coming in from the outside. With a huff, he pulled a flashlight for his toolbox. He spared one last glance to Joey, who waved his hand and urged him to go on. And so he did. _

_ His eyes scanned every corner of room. The desks of animators left abandoned. Drawings unfinished and left to turn yellow due to age. Boards creaking under his weight. And those creepy cutouts. He scowled as he came across one, pushing it aside as he descended onto a hallway off to the right. The lay out seemed...different. He couldn’t say he’d been to the art department many times before. Maybe once or twice. He only ever made his way to the ink machine room and ignored everything in between. But even still, something just felt off about it. As if the area was bigger than it should be. _

_ Thomas shook such feelings off his shoulders. Now was not the time to think about how the studio was put together. He had a machine to dismantle. Making way toward the room that had held it in the past, that small, cramped room. With its many pipes and a loud machine dropped right in the middle of it. Constantly dripping ink and needing repairs.  _

_ He did have to wonder just how the machine had gotten back in the studio, and onto the fourth floor at that. The thing wasn’t easy to lug around and would no doubt have to be dismantled bit by bit to be brought inside. And then rebuilt again. The thoughts had Thomas stopping right in his tracks. He’d been so concerned about trying to get to the thing and break it down, that he hadn’t really thought much of just  _ **_HOW_ ** _ it got back to the studio in the first place. _

_ If the stolen item had been found, it would be in the hands of the police force. For evidence or some other nonsense. He couldn’t imagine whoever had stolen would just bring it back to the studio for kicks. Thomas was prepared to turn around and head back out when he felt a hand slap him on the back. It actually managed to  _ **_STARTLE_ ** _ him. Head whipping to his right so fast that he nearly gave himself whiplash. _

_ Joey Drew stood there next to him. Laughing in his face and shaking his head “A bit jumpy today are we, Tommy?” The engineer scowled and opened his mouth to speak, but Joey cut him off “Well? Come on! We don’t have all day. You wanted to see your machine right?” _

_ The old man continued forward, stepping over a pipe and disappearing around a corner. Thomas’ eyes narrowed as he chased after the other. Something wasn’t right about Joey Drew. Something wasn’t right about that whole damn studio. “Now wait a min-” _

_ Thomas’ throat ran dry and the words were caught in his mouth. Coming around the corner, he was not greeted by the sight of that small room which once held the ink machine. Instead, his eyes fell onto the doorway of a room that looked far larger. One with a railing that seemed to peer over a large hole. Thomas slowly made his way into the room. Eyes falling onto chains that disappeared within the darkness of that hole. A mechanism that looked like a power switch was off to his right. As was Joey Drew, who stood there with a large smile on his face. _

_ “What...what is this…?” _

_ “Isn’t it magnificent, Tommy? It took quite a bit of work to construct. But it was worth it to see such a look on your face!” The old man laughed before turning his back on the other. Facing the power mechanism before pulling down the sole lever. Thomas’ eyes fell from the old man and instead went to look at the rattling chains. Watching as they appeared to pull up something from the darkness. _

_ His eyes grew wide and his heart nearly stopped in his chest as bits and pieces of something came from out of the hole. Thomas dropped his flashlight to the ground in shock, not that it was needed. The whole room seemed to illuminate as the object attached to the chains was revealed. _

_ The Ink Machine. _

_ But it was so... _ **_HUGE!_ ** _ And it looked so sleek. As if someone had taken Thomas’ design and made adjustments, ones that weren’t possible. That wasn’t his invention! That wasn’t what he’d created! The machine before him now was crafted by someone else’s hands. And it made Thomas’ heart sink thinking that not only was his machine still out there - but that there was now another one to coexist with it. _

_ “It took so much work. So very much. But I think I’m finally ready for this story to begin. I just need to add a few more characters to the mix.” _

_ The smile on Joey’s face could only be described as demented. Thomas had never been fearful of the old man - but in that moment he was. A bolt of horror ran through his heart as he took a step back. Joey took one forward. The old man’s cane hitting the ground with such force, Thomas was surprised the boards beneath didn’t crack. _

_ “You...you made  _ **_ANOTHER_ ** _ one?” The engineer shouted, ignoring the crack in his voice. Rage slowly starting to seep through as everything hit him. _

_ “For the story, Tommy! The old one couldn’t handle what I have in mind. I needed more ink. I needed a bigger enemy for the protagonist to strive to beat!” _

_ The old man was making no sense. A story? The protagonist? Damn it! They weren’t in one of those silly cartoons! They were mettling with the unknown, they had been for a long time. It was time to stop. Time to dismantle the machines that had caused the loss of so many already. Thomas wasn’t going to let the old man take anymore people into the ink. Or let him create more monsters. _

_ “You aren’t using this thing anymore! People aren’t part of your stories, you damned nut!” Thomas took his own step forward. His shouting now bringing surprise onto Joey’s face. The old man was still all talk and no bite. Still just a sickly, sham of a man that was trying to make himself larger than life. It had to stop. No one else had to have their lives ruined by Joey-fucking-Drew. _

_ He backed the old man up against the railing. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t even know how he was going to take down that giant hunk of a machine. But something had to be done. His hand reaching out once he was close enough to Joey. An attempt made to grab the old man’s collar. But before he could grab hold, he recoiled back. A pin prick sort of feeling traveling up his left arm. A feeling of something cold traveling under his skin. Looking at his arm, he saw a syringe lodged into it. And what ever had been in the syringe before - was now flowing through his body. _

_ The effects hit him immediately. His vision went in and out. One second it was fine and the next it was blurry. His legs felt like liquid and his mind was growing foggy. Thomas stumbled backwards for a moment, his brain trying to direct him to retreat. But Joey wasn’t letting him. Thomas could just barely see the old man’s demented smirk returning. Powerless as Joey placed his cane behind the engineer’s legs and caused him to fall backwards. _

_ He didn’t let the sudden force of hitting the ground stop him though. Trying to ignore Joey’s mocking laugh as he tried to crawl away. His heart sank as he realized too late he’d been crawling in the wrong direction. Hands pressing up against the railing that held them back from falling into the dark hole that housed the ink machine. _

_ “Every creator must return to their creations one day, Tommy. And you’ve returned to yours.” Joey was standing behind him now. Thomas had to  _ **_FIGHT_ ** _ just to keep himself awake. Grasping the railing and pulling himself up to stand. His knees buckled a few times, but he refused to be yet another victim to some aging loon. _

_ “Now, now, it’ll be easier if you just-” _

_ With what strength he had left, Thomas swung around and decked the old man in the face. Joey stumbled back but not very far. Remaining close enough for Thomas to grab the man’s neck and ever so slightly hoist him off the ground. The edges of his vision were going black. He was wobbling back and forth and could just barely keep his hold on the other. But he had to try. He couldn’t let it end there. _

_ “Not…not…today…” He uttered out through gritted teeth. His grip around Joey’s neck tightening. The older man let out a wheeze at first, but a moment later he was letting out a strained laugh in between gasps for air. _

_ “Yes, Tommy…” He wheezed out “ _ **_TODAY._ ** _ ” _

_ The pain that hit his arm that time was far worse than before. His mind barely even seemed to register it up until he felt it again. And again. And again. Finally his eyes traveled to his arm and watched as Joey continued to stab into the wounded flesh with a pocket knife. Blood was seeping out of his arm and hitting the floor. At one point he thought he lost feeling in it as well. It wasn’t until he felt the knife dig into the side of his neck that he released his hold on Joey.  _

_ Thomas stumbled back and leaned against the railing. His right hand raising up and trying to grasp at the object now lodged in his neck. Fingers slipping as blood pooled around the wound. A moment later he felt hands pressed against his chest - hands that proceeded to push him over the railing. _

_ “Dreams come true, Tommy!” _

\----------

Yes, he remembered. Of course he did. He never forgot. And he wasn’t sure if that was just some sort of punishment put onto him by Joey or the ink. He couldn’t tell where the man’s influence ended and the ink’s began. He couldn’t understand a lot of things that had happened in that studio. All he did understand was that he was partly to blame for it.

He’d helped to make the ink machine. He’d been the one to design it. When the idea was first proposed to him, he’d thought he was just making life-like cartoons. A venture that actually sounded interesting. But in the end, it just made monsters. And nightmares. Though if Drew were there, he would say it was all going according to plan.

He would always say that back when Tom had started building that machine.

The wolf toon held the audio player in his hands. Gripping it so tightly he almost hoped it would break before they returned to the safe house. He knew he was stalling with how slow he was walking. Taking short steps. Henry didn’t rush him though. Nor did he comment on it. And for that, Tom was grateful.

He feared how Allison would react once she knew. The tape wouldn’t reveal what he’d done. Only give her a glimpse of who she once was. But would she put certain dots together and come to hate him? Would she loathe him because he’d kept her past away from her for so long? They were the type of questions that he asked himself over and over again. Ever since he’d found that audio player and hid it away. 

Hell, ever since he found and  **SAVED** her, he’d been asking himself such things. But it was hard to explain anything when he was mute. And writing it all out didn’t seem appropriate either. Tom feeling as if he’d leave out too much. Plus, when he’d first found her, he hadn’t wanted to scare her. Everyone she’d met up until him had been a threat and someone who she thought could harm her. He didn’t want her to think of him as some other threat. So he’d kept it to himself that they were husband and wife. Continued to just let her believe they were two souls who happened to stumble across each other and become friends.

It wasn’t fair. But at the time he’d thought it’d been right.

The pair eventually stumbled back into the safe house. The  _ prophet _ hadn’t managed to find himself a weapon, which Tom was relieved to see. The inky man had instead taken up drawing some music notes on the wall. Right next to the ones Allison had been doodling when they’d been there last time.

Allison herself was perching on her cot, still hemming Henry’s shirt. She glanced up when she heard them enter. A soft smile appearing on her face for only a second before it turned into a frown. Probably because all they’d come back with was some dusty audio player.

“No luck?” She asked them. The  _ prophet _ looked to them as well. Great, an audience. Tom wanted to tell the crazed music director to shove off and give him and Allison some privacy. But he couldn’t. A huff coming out in place of his words.

Thank God Henry had his back. Sort of.

“We found some things.” The toon devil spoke up “But we wanted to show you something else first. Well,  **TOM** did at least.” 

All eyes fell on him after that. Allison looking to him with curious eyes. That particular trait never seemed to leave her. Even when the ink consumed her. Underneath it all she was still Allison. And although he couldn’t speak to begin with, Tom felt even more speechless as the angel waited for him to do something.

“Well? Are you going to say anything or can we return to our conversation?” The  _ prophet _ spoke up with mild irritation in his voice. Oh, so he and Allison had been chatting had they?

“Sammy. We can talk more later.” Yes, they could. And Tom would be interested to know just what exactly it was the two of them were talking about while he and Henry were scavenging.

Speaking of Henry, he seemed to realize that Tom didn’t want an audience. Waving over to Sammy to try and get the  _ prophet _ to follow him out of the door “Hey, Sammy, why don’t you help me carry back some of the things we found?” That seemed to get the other’s attention. The man was a crazed follower of some cartoon devil after all. Of course he’d be at Henry’s beck and call when the man  **LOOKED** exactly like Sammy’s god.

“We’ll be back. You two take your time.” Henry said as he and Sammy made their way out. He shot Tom an encouraging look before they left entirely. Tom waited until the pair of them were further down the hall before his attention returned to Allison. If she wasn’t curious before, she sure as Hell was now.

_ ‘Now or never.’ _

Tom had to tell himself as he came to sit at Allison’s side. Bless her for being so patient. She had set the shirt off to the side and kept her hands folded on her lap. Curiosity was no doubt eating away at her, but she remained quiet. Waiting for Tom to act rather than forcing him to. She used to do that all the time back before...well...back before what they were now. 

Before he could change his mind, Tom thrust the audio player into Allison’s lap. The angel looked surprised as the object was practically tossed at her. Fumbling with the thing for a moment before she looked down at it. She spared a glance at Tom - but all he could do was look away. He couldn’t bear to look at her and see how she’d react to the tape. Flinching as he heard the  _ click _ of the play button. And soon heard Allison’s recorded voice fill the air.

The both of them remained silent as the tape played. Not that Tom had much of a choice in that matter. His hands gripped the edges of the cot. Anxiety spiking through him - more than he’d ever felt in his life. He certainly didn’t feel like Allison’s  _ tough guy _ in that moment.

_ “But Tom’s keeping secrets. And it’s eating him up inside everyday.” _

Another  _ click _ as the audio came to an end. Neither of them made a move nor said anything. It was both an awkward and unbearable silence. Tom daring to take a deep breath before he finally turned his head to look at Allison. His frown deepening as he saw the look on the other’s face. One of both confusion and contemplation. 

“That voice. It’s mine. But it’s also...hers.” The angel said in a low whisper. Tom shook his head instantly. Pointing to the audio player before pointing to Allison. Trying to indicate that the voice on the tape was hers and  **ONLY** hers. That twisted Alice had only stolen it. Only had it because she had been morphed from a person into the visage of a toon angel.

The gesture wouldn’t get all of that across, though he wished it did. He wished he still had a voice so that he could actually  **TELL** her those things rather than make gestures and have her come to her own conclusions. Hell, he almost wished Henry was there to say it all for him. But he knew that wouldn’t be right. That the whole thing had to be just between him and Allison.

The angel looked to Tom as he made his gestures, then back down to the audio player. Her grip on the thing was strong - even Tom could see that. Watching as the other’s facial expression morphed into many things. Some things that he couldn’t keep track of. Making it so hard for him to understand just what Allison was feeling.

“Is it...is...it me?”

She finally asked, eyes drifting upward to again look at Tom. Searching him for confirmation. And he gave her what she wanted - a nod. And it broke his heart to hear the soft sobbing sound that came from the back of Allison’s throat. He wanted to place a hand on her shoulder, but held himself back. He wasn’t sure if she wanted his comfort right now.

“And...and you knew?” There was the  _ million dollar question _ . The one that made Tom flinch, which was all the confirmation that Allison needed “You knew!” She repeated, and he could hear the hurt and anger in her tone. 

His eyes darted around the room. He couldn’t just keep silent and let her believe he had kept such things from her to hurt her. He couldn’t lose her trust. Not when she didn’t know the full story. And he may not be able to tell her all of it now, but he had to give her  **SOMETHING** . To show her she could still trust in him.

Tom rose from the cot and made his way toward the makeshift cell they had put Henry in. Allison called after him, asking just where he was going. The wolf toon went into the cell and was relieved to see a few scraps of paper still left on the floor, picking it up before he went over to the fresh ink that Sammy had used on the wall. Allison watched him carefully, he could feel her eyes boring into him. 

Taking the ink from the walls and letting it stain the tips of his fingers, Tom started to write. It took a few moments, basically having to finger paint the words. Carefully trying to decide what to say - that was the hardest part. But he eventually came up with something. Though even what he had written down, he wasn’t sure of it. But it was better than nothing. Finally making his way back over to Allison and holding the paper out to her.

The woman raised a brow before taking the paper from him. Reading of the words that had been messily scrawled on it:

_ Your name is Allison. I wanted to protect you. _

After that, her eyes narrowed. And Tom had to wonder if no matter what he’d put on there would have been wrong. Allison was soon standing on her feet and glaring at him. Digging a finger into his chest as words tumbled out of her mouth through a cracking voice, “You knew! All this time you knew! And you didn’t say anything! Because...because you wanted to protect me. Protect me from what? Why do you think it has to be  **YOU** protecting me? Why was I so important?”

Her finger jabbed into his chest, but not enough to really hurt him. It took a lot to actually bring pain to a  _ monster _ made of ink. Her words stung more than her poking. Tom felt the guilt and anxiety in his heart increase ten fold. There was nothing he could say nor enough paper in the world that would explain everything to Allison. There also wasn’t enough time.

So instead, he reached into the front pocket of his overalls. Soon pulling out two tiny objects that he’d been keeping close to him. One he’d had since he’d woken up in that hellscape. Amazed that out of everything that he’d lost when falling into the ink - he’d still managed to hold onto it. The other object he’d found by chance. Some time after having saved Allison and taking her in.

He held onto the two objects for so long. Kept them safe. Just so they would have them in case they ever escaped the studio. But now seemed like a better time than any to return  **ONE** of the items to its rightful owner. So he held out his hand to her, opening it to reveal two rings. Simple silver bands - with their names engraved on the inside.

_ Thomas & Allison Connor _

The angel’s eyes widened as she saw the rings. She didn’t dare reach out to take one. Tom hesitated himself for another moment. But eventually one of them would have to act - it might as well be him. So he took one of the rings into his other hand - the one that had belonged to her. He slowly reached out to take one of Allison’s hand, and felt hurt when she recoiled back. He wasn’t going to hurt her, did she think he was? No doubt she saw the hurt in his expression - seeing as she slowly relented and held her hand out to him.

He was just as slow in his movement as he gently took her hand in his own, soon slipping the silver band onto her ring finger. And then he let go. Allowing Allison to examine the piece of jewelry. Watching as her face morphed into one of amazement at the way the band reflected off what little light was in their safehouse. Then she looked at him. He wanted to put his own ring on - but knew the thing wouldn’t fit on either of his hands. So instead he held the object in her line of sight before holding it against where his heart would still be if he were human.

The curiosity on Allison’s face started to wane. She lowered her ringed hand and looked into Tom’s eyes. He wished he knew what she was thinking. What she made of the entire revelation. If she even still understood what the rings meant. He was rather startled and taken from his thoughts when he felt the angel’s hand press against his cheek.

“I think we have a lot to talk about.”


	9. I'm Still Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Had some writers block, then got drawing fever, then got ACTUALLY sick. But hopefully this long bundle of a chapter can make up for that!

They still had a lot to talk about. A  **HELL** of a lot. But eventually they had to move on from their old safe house. And in the end...they ran out of paper. There was only so much of the scraps for Tom to write on. But at least he’d focused on the more important things to tell her.

Her name was... **IS** Allison Pendle. She became Allison Connor when she married him. Oh, yes. They were married. That concept in and of itself was still something so odd to her. Marriage was still something she had a very loose grasp on, only knowing what it was through stray books she had found left behind in the studio. Her views of it based on those and that one cartoon  _ special _ she’d seen play on a few projector screens. But she had the basics. She knew it was something done between two people who loved each other very much.

And in her old life...she loved him. She couldn’t say she felt those same exact feelings now. Her memory, it was all still very fuzzy. The only things she could recall were the blur of  _ dreams _ she had. Now confirmed to be more than just simple dreams. And now she understood why that woman, why  **SHE** was always calling out for Tom in them. Why she had gone looking for him to begin with.

Why they were so...connected.

She’d also learned that she had been an actress. That her voice had been used for the character of  _ Alice Angel _ . No wonder the ink had spat her back out as a semi-replica of the cartoon character. That little bit of knowledge had also made way for the reveal that she’d replaced the previous actress.  _ Susie _ . That woman had been mentioned in the tape as well. The name itself made guilt swell up in her chest. It always had. She’d found the tapes that the woman  _ Susie _ had made. Had always felt there was some connection there. Now she knew why.

Because in a previous life she had stolen that woman’s lively hood. Had stolen her hopes and dreams. God, was she truly so horrible when she was Allison? Tom assured her that she was not - words written out on paper. Words that rang hollow to her. If she wasn’t such a horrible person in her previous life, how had she ended up there? Living as a creature made from ink.

Her dreams. Her  _ memories _ . She ended up there because she had been looking for Tom. But why had Tom been there? There was so much she wanted to know. So much she wanted to ask him. But his lack of voice and the minimal amount of paper gave them few options to discuss such matters. On top of the fact they were technically on the run. Though she had no clue how the twisted Alice was getting around as fast as she was. They couldn’t risk that devil disguised as an angel corning them in the safe house.

“When we find more paper, I expect you to answer more questions.” She said to Tom as she tucked the other papers securely under her belt. She didn’t want to lose them. Almost fearful that not reading them over and over again would cause her to forget her past. Forget what little she knew and what little she had reclaimed. 

Tom could only nod his head in response. The entire time he’d held a look of guilt on his face and honestly Alice... **_ALLISON_ ** couldn’t say she felt sorry for him. She couldn’t forgive him right away either. He’d been keeping so much from her for so long. All so he could  _ protect _ her. Protect her from something that he himself hadn’t even named on the papers, even when she’d ask.

She’d get more answers out of him eventually. Whether it be through finding mountains of paper and having him write on every single one, or by strangling him until his nonexistent vocal chords worked. The former more likely than the latter.

“But for now,” She spoke again, a soft sigh escaping her as she made her way passed him “We need to keep going. We’ve already lingered here long enough.” 

Allison grabbed Henry’s shirt from atop the wooden box she’d been sitting on previously. She hadn’t been able to do everything she had wanted to. There were still holes of varying sizes littering the front and back of the garment. But at least she had managed to hem it enough so that Henry wouldn’t be trampling all over it. They couldn’t afford for him to trip up when they still had so much more ground to cover.

“Come on. Henry and Sammy won’t wait forever.”

Tom didn’t let out his signature huff. Instead just giving another solemn nod before trailing behind the angel toon toward the door. It was odd seeing him like that. And no, she still didn’t feel guilty or even an ounce of pity for him. He’d brought it upon himself. Tom may have had his reasons for keeping things from her - but she now had her reasons for being upset with him for doing so.  Maybe over time she would forgive him. Maybe even come to understand why he did what he did. Probably not until she got the full story. Not until she got to know who  _ Allison _ truly was.

“It took you two long enough.” The pair heard Sammy speak up with clear irritation in his tone. The  _ prophet _ let out an  **_OOF_ ** once he was elbowed in the stomach by Henry. That at least brought the tiniest of smiles to Allison’s face.

“What he means is, we were getting worried. Is everything...all right?” The old animator looked between the two, clearly not able to decide which to focus on. And it was clear Tom wasn’t giving any sort of answer save for staring at the ground in a defeated way.

Thus, it fell onto Allison to speak for them both. It always did.

“I wouldn’t say  _ all right _ . But...it’ll get there.” She looked to Tom whose ears perked up at her words. Unsure if she saw a hopeful glint in those cartoonish black eyes or not “We...talked. Sort of. It’s not all figured out but-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Henry interrupted “If you want to keep it private you can, Alice.”

“Allison.” She uttered before raising her voice ever so slightly “My name is...it’s Allison.” She looked to Henry who gave her a warm smile in return. It was odd seeing such an expression on the face of a normally wide smiling devil darling. 

“Allison,” He repeated “Well that’ll definitely make it easier for us to differentiate you from our other angel pal in conversation.”

She didn’t get to respond as the sound of Sammy clearing his throat interrupted them. The  _ prophet _ was clearly growing impatient with the heart to heart. He was always the type to not like those sorts of moments. Wait...how did she know that? Because…

Because  **ALLISON** knew that. 

She didn’t let the surprise show on her face. Nor the joy. It was something small. A tiny detail in regards to a man she might have known something about in her past. But it was still something. And it made her hopeful that more of her memories would return without her having to  _ sleep _ to get them.

“Right, right. We should be going. Who knows how much ground we’ve given  _ Alice _ . But before we go. Here, Henry. I did the best I could with what time I had.”

She held out the shirt for the other to take. Henry took it eagerly, practically jumping into the garment and buttoning up the front. Despite the holes that still littered parts of it, he seemed pretty pleased by the fact the shirt wasn’t hanging over his ankles. Instead the bottom of the shirt was now just a bit above his knees. Still pretty long, but not so much that he’d find himself flat on the floor again should they be forced to run. Which no doubt they would be.

“By the way, Henry, there was a piece of paper in your front pocket. What were those drawings on it? They didn’t look like anything you made back in the safe house.”

Allison was taken aback by how stunned Henry looked at her question. Like a Searcher caught in the light of the Projectionist. She honestly hadn’t meant to go snooping through the one pocket his shirt had, but the paper had fallen out as she’d been working. And judging by the look on Henry’s face, he’d nearly forgotten about it too. The animator’s hand having gone to the pocket, as if he were protecting what lay inside. As if she hadn’t already seen it.

The last time she’d seen his art it had mainly been doodles. Sketches of Bendy - the  **ACTUAL** Bendy from the posters. One of a dead Boris, which was sort of distasteful after what he’d experienced, but she wasn’t going to judge. But the paper in the other’s pocket, the drawings on there. There was something...unnerving about them. Pentagrams, ones of a different style that she hadn’t seen littering the studio walls before. Why would Henry be drawing such things?

It didn’t look as if she would get an answer to her question. Despite how her curiosity was peaked, as was Tom’s, judging by how he was looking over at the two, they didn’t have time to discuss Henry’s little  _ secret _ . Henry after all didn’t seem too keen on revealing anything in that moment. And there was the looming threat of Alice catching onto them. As well as the fact that Sammy was growing impatient, not caring much for the current conversation as he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor.

“Fine,” Allison sighed, putting up her hands in defeat “ **_FINE_ ** . But we will be talking about this later.” She made that clear in her tone. And Henry at least had the decency to nod. Allison was tired of being left in the dark and lacking the knowledge that members of her own group seemed to have. She refused to be clueless any longer.

With that momentarily settled, she strode forward. Making her way down the cavernous hall, expecting the others to follow. She heard Tom and Sammy’s heavy footsteps, but not Henry’s. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the animator turned toon looking confused.

“Aren’t we going back through the safe house entrance?” He questioned, pointing back towards the way they’d come.

Allison shook her head “No. Unless you want to take the riskier way to get to BendyHell. We’re going through a shortcut that’s near the ink river.”

“And we didn’t come through this way before because…?” Henry questioned as he caught up to the group.

“Well we couldn’t let you know  **ALL** of our secrets. Plus, at the time, Alice wasn’t a problem.” Seeing as Allison had stabbed her in the back and supposedly killed her. At least for a little while...until the blasted, twisted angel had reformed as mean and dark hearted as ever. Perhaps that's why the prospect of death wasn’t as frightening anymore. It just wasn’t permanent, unless caused by the Ink Demon. Supposedly that monster was the only thing that could keep them muddled in the ink for good. Left formless and stuck in the void of voices. Of course...that was just something she’d seen on the walls and heard through the tortured voices of Lost Ones. Whether it was actually true...well...no one was keen to test it out.

The rest of the short walk was taken in silence. And luckily no Searchers were in the area and waiting to pop out. Once they reached the _docks_ of the river, Allison motioned toward the back wall. Everyone but Tom seemed to look confused as she made way toward the seemingly blocked off room covered by large grating and a **_KEEP OUT_** sign. At least until she bent down next to the bottom left corner and started to peel back the grating with ease. A big enough hole made for them all to fit through one by one.

“How did I not see this the first time?” Henry questioned as he made his way closer.

Allison humored him with a smile, “Because you weren’t looking for it. Now hurry up and get in there. Tom,” Her smile went away as she looked toward the wolf toon “You know what to do.”

Tom just gave a nod before moving forward. Allison held the grating back as the others got down and crawled through the hole. Once they were all through, Allison crawled through herself, holding onto the grating as she ducked under it and letting it fall back into place once she was through. Tom had followed her  _ orders _ , moving aside boxes to reveal the entrance to yet another vent shaft. At the sight of it - both Henry  **AND** Sammy let out a collective sigh.

“Another vent?” The  _ prophet _ whined.

“It’s darker and more cramped,” Allison gave them the bad news first “But it’s a straight line to where we need to go and it’ll be quick. Then we’ll be right into BendyHell and one step closer to that office.”

The mention of the office seemed to at least stir Henry into action. The old animator giving a nod as a new found look of determination crossed his face. But even if he was ready, Sammy was not. The inky man, despite lacking the facial features to do so, looked nervous.

“It’ll be quick. I promise.” Allison reassured him. Henry gave a pat to Sammy’s arm for extra comfort. That was enough to make the  _ prophet _ gain some semblance of confidence. A minute or so later the group was piling themselves into the vent. And Allison hadn’t been joking around when she said it was more cramped. Her shoulders rubbed up against the sides of the vent walls - and she was a rather tiny  _ toon _ . She couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for Tom and Sammy to squeeze through. Though she could  **HEAR** it. The pair of bulkier men grumbling from the back. Even if they were made of ink, it still didn’t make cramped spaces any more enjoyable. Or easier to navigate.

But she had been truthful when she’d said it’d be quick. Scuttling along through the vent shaft at a quickened pace. It was only a minute, maybe even two, before they reached the end. Allison easily sliding herself out and onto the floor. The exit to the vent was a little higher up than most of the others they had traveled through. Easy enough for her to pull herself out of and have her feet touch the floor. But that wasn’t the same case for Henry. 

Allison couldn’t help but chuckle as she had to help the poor Henry out. Picking him up like a child so that he could safely be moved from the vent and onto the floor. To Henry’s credit, he didn’t comment on it, but judging by his facial expression he was a bit embarrassed.

“Not so easy being short, is it?” The angel questioned with a slight smirk. Henry did nothing more but wave off her comment as he watched the remainder of the group come out of the vent. At least Tom didn’t shove Sammy out that time.

“Where are we now?” The  _ prophet _ questioned once they were all safely outside the vent. Seemed they had gone through it quick enough what with him not dripping all over the floor. Well, at least not any more than he usually did.

“Inside the haunted house.”

“I don’t remember being in this part of it.” Henry commented as he went over to a Boris doll that had been abandoned along the tracks. Picking it up and looking it over. A sort of somber expression had replaced his embarrassed one from mere seconds ago. Allison could only hazard to guess why.

“We took you through another way out. We know of a lot of different ways to get through the studio. At least this part of it.” She responded before signalling the boys to follow her “If we didn’t have so many exit strategies,  _ Alice _ might have caught us.”

“With all the cameras she apparently has around here, I’m honestly surprised you guys were able to keep all these  _ exits _ a secret.”

**HA!** If only they’d been able to do that. Honestly, Alice probably knew about a lot of the vents and doorways that Allison and Tom traveled. But in the beginning, and a few hours ago, it had only been  **JUST** Alice in that area. That  _ angel _ had no followers or anyone to help her, save for any few monsters she created. But said monsters often fell apart with a single smack. Alice had no one to help her to keep a pair of wanderers pinned down.

But now that she had Sammy’s cult...well that was a different story. There was a reason they had to start moving fast after all. Who was to say that Alice wouldn’t start to recall some of the exits that Allison and Tom had taken? Who was to say she wouldn’t have her  _ followers _ plug those vents and doors and archways. Who was to say she wasn’t just watching them right now and giving them a false sense of security?

Allison couldn’t help but to look up and all around her. There wasn’t a single camera in sight, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still being watched. She remembered when she first met Tom, well, at least first met him as an inky toon. He had pointed out the cameras and told her through words on paper what they were. Had told her there were no doubt hidden ones too. And she could recall all the ones they had tried to break so that Alice couldn’t have eyes on them anymore. Only to find that the next day they were back.

\----------

_ “I  _ **_SWEAR_ ** _ I broke that one yesterday! How...how did she replace it so fast?” _

_ She felt so defeated in that moment. The nameless angel that the inky beings had taken to calling Alice. The thing that had set the  _ **_OTHER_ ** _ one off. Her companion at her side let out a huff at her words. And though she’d only been with him for a short time, she could tell he wasn’t angry at her. After all, he was glaring at the somehow fixed camera. The wolf toon tapping his pipe weapon against his metal hand. He always seemed to do that when he was thinking. _

_ “Do you think she has someone helping her?” _

_ Tom shook his head. _

_ “Do you think I didn’t really break it? That I just hit some off switch by mistake?” _

_ Tom shook his head again. _

_ “Then what happened?” _

_ She was desperate for answers and Tom could give her none. Her companion looked at her with a frown before placing his non-metal hand on her shoulder as a means for comfort. And though she could tell her was trying, it didn’t do much for her at all.  _

_ She had to have messed up somehow. She had to have done something wrong. And who knew how much that would cost them in the end! And Tom dare not get mad at her or reprimand her for her clear screw up? Just why?  _ **_WHY?_ **

\----------

Allison knew why now. Why Tom never got mad even when she’d make mistakes, no matter how small or large. But she still couldn’t figure out just how Alice was able to repair her cameras so easily. Even now when Allison had more confidence and insight distilled into her, that little thing just wasn’t able to be answered.

If she knew they wouldn’t just somehow be easily repaired, Allison could have gone down the line in the haunted house and smashed every camera she saw. But seeing as Alice had a way of fixing them when it was just her, no doubt the cameras would be back up in mere seconds now that she had additional help.

A few turns through the haunted house brought them to the big room. The same room where she’d first met Henry. And  _ killed _ Alice. Damned twisted woman should have just stayed dead. Would have made their current mission a lot easier if she had. Allison had glanced around the area before allowing the others to enter. No sign of Searchers or Lost Ones in sight. For now at least. Alice had to have had more cameras in there, how else would she have been able to watch Henry fight that abomination of a Boris she had made?

“I was hoping to never come back here again.” She heard Henry mumble. Glancing in his direction, she saw the frown on his face. Soon following his eyes to where he’d been staring. In the dead center of the room was a large ink stain. No doubt it had been left behind from the huge Boris that had been killed in that spot. By Henry’s own hands…

He shouldn’t feel guilty for that. It wasn’t his fault. He did what he had to so that he could survive “Henry...what she did to Boris. You couldn’t have known. And you had no choice but to-”

“I  **DID** have a choice. I could have found another way if I hadn’t panicked. If my first instinct hadn’t been to fight.” He argued, making his way toward the large ink stain. She saw the way he glared down at a much smaller ink stain left nearby. The one that Alice had made when Allison ran her sword through her back.

“Boris didn’t deserve this,” Henry uttered “Whoever he was didn’t deserve this.”

“Who are we talking about?” Sammy piped up with his unnecessary comment. An  _ oof _ admitted from the inky man as Tom elbowed him in the stomach. A fight might have broken out between the pair if Allison hadn’t intervened and taken the  _ kinder _ approach to Sammy’s rude question.

“An old friend. An old friend that was lost.” She turned her attention back to Henry with a frown “We should keep going. We’re almost out of here.”

Henry let out a sigh before giving a nod in response. Pulling himself away from the ink stain on the floor so that he could look to the rest of the group. His eyes seemed to catch something else though. The somber look from before fading just slightly as a tiny smile came to his face. Kneeling down near the ink stain left behind by Alice, he scooped up a rather thick packet of it from the floor. 

“Henry! Don’t touch that stuff!” Allison scolded, looking rather disgusted “Especially stuff that belonged to  _ her _ .”

“We all need to be armed don’t we?” He questioned before making his way passed her and over to some device in the back of the room. Allison quirked a brow at it. She’d seen the things before but had never used them. Watching with curious eyes as Henry placed the thick ink in through the front slot of the machine before darting to the right side of the machine and examining something before darting to the right. One twist of the crank and  _ something _ popped out. It looked to be just another inky blob until it reshaped itself to look like one of the pipe weapons that were littered throughout the studio.

Allison couldn’t help but to look at it with amazement “How-?”

“I don’t know,” Henry responded with a soft chuckle. He picked up the newly crafted pipe and held it out for Sammy to take. Allison didn’t know how to feel about the  _ prophet _ carrying around a weapon. Though he’d been docile for the most part, who was to say he wouldn’t turn that pipe around on them eventually? Especially once and  **IF** he found out Henry wasn’t some  _ vassal _ for the ink demon.

Tom seemed to be on the same wavelength as her. Stepping forward with a shake of his head and trying to take the pipe out of Henry’s hand. The animator was quick to pull it back and give Tom a stern look “You already have one. Sammy needs  **SOME** way of defending himself too.”

“Henry, are you sure? What if-”

“These things are one time use.” He interrupted her. Slipping passed Tom so that he could finally place the ink crafted pipe into Sammy’s hands “With Alice trying to close in, we all need some form of protection. And should Sammy decide to turn the pipe on us-”

“I won’t, vassal. I-”

“He can only get one swing in and then we can retaliate. But if you’re using it against anything that attacks us,” Now he turned to Sammy. That serious look back in his eyes “Make it  **COUNT** . Don’t waste it. We’ve been  _ lucky _ finding things to use as weapons so far but who knows how long that luck will last.”

Wise words, in all honesty. And a one time use weapon was a good thing for someone like Sammy to have. Because Henry was right. Should the other turn against them, he’d only have one swing to get in. And then he’d have to be up against  **THREE** people who all had weapons that could go beyond just one use. Tom still didn’t seem happy with arming the  _ prophet _ , but he’d have to deal with it for now. There was no time to keep arguing and in the end, Sammy didn’t look as if he was willing to give up the ink pipe.

“Well, if we’re done here, we should keep going.” Allison gestured for the others to follow once more. She didn’t miss Henry glancing back to the large ink stain in the middle of the room. Nor the frown that returned to his face. All she could do was pat his shoulder and encourage him to move forward. And he did.

 

The rest of the walk was taken in silence. The trackway was darker than it had been the last time they’d been through there. No doubt the candles that lined it were starting to go out. It was rather surprising that Alice wasn’t forcing her newly formed  _ cult _ to keep them lit at all times. But perhaps that could be used to their advantage. Less light on the trackway meant less for the twisted angel to see through her cameras, did it not? Sure, the group risked tripping if they weren't careful. But if it meant a lesser chance of Alice seeing them, it was worth it.

“We’re just going to be in and out. Okay? As soon as we’re out of the haunted house we make a right towards Research and Design.” Allison instructed, not wanting them to be out in the open for too long. The main area of BendyHell was decently lit and who knew how many cameras Alice might have had set up there. The high ceilings and dozens of  _ attractions _ could easily conceal the pesky things from the groups view. But if they were quick, they could make it through the research room and make their next daring escape. One step closer to getting to that office. 

“That room had the Butcher Gang in it last time I was here.” Henry spoke up “And I had to distract them and be slow and quiet just to get passed. But...last time I didn’t really have a weapon.”

“And these will be what makes the change this time,” Allison responded, holding up her sword “Now, you can fight back. Just follow Tom and I’s lead, all right?”

She directed it at both the old animator  **AND** the  _ prophet _ . The two clutched their pipes and nodded in response.

“Okay,” Allison took in a deep breath, hand on the door that led out of the haunted house...and into the open “ **_GO!_ ** ”

\----------

_ “And here I thought Thomas would be spending all his free time down here with you lot. I thought he liked the sounds of machines and construction.” _

_ Lacie let out a huff next to her. The older woman not bothering to look over as she continued to focus on her work. Allison didn’t travel down to the BendyLand work stations very often, but when she did, she’d always try to find Thomas. Or bother Lacie. After all, it was nice to have another woman to talk to. One that didn’t look at her the way the others did. _

_ “Just because we work on these thin’s, doesn’t mean we like bein’ surrounded by them at all hours.” Was the gruffer woman’s response. An aggravated noise leaving her not even a moment later “Damn thing!” _

_Allison nearly jumped as Lacie slammed her fist down atop the work table. No doubt her frustration was aimed right at the animatronic that lay resting on the table. The thing that she nor Mister Piedmont could get to work - though not from lack of trying. They’d spent hours and possibly even some nights trying to make the thing to the scope of_ **PERFECTION** _that Mister Drew wanted. But no dice. Every time they made the changes or got it to work, Mister Drew wanted something else. Something more real._

_ Clearly their boss didn’t understand the limitations that they had. _

_ “Better off jus’ stuffin’ some poor saps in costumes and havin’ ‘em dance around. Kids won’t care.” Lacie threw her wrench on the table. The tool bouncing off the side of the animatronics head and leaving a tiny dent. Not that the engineer seemed to care. Instead rising from her seat and looking to Allision.  _

_ “Those costumes are creepy.” Was the actress’s response. _

_ “So is this thin’.” Lacie gestured to the machine left on the table “And it clearly ain’t gonna be used anytime soon. Not with how that crackpot Drew keeps changin’ everythin’.”  _

_ Allison tried to give a sympathetic smile. She always got rather uncomfortable whenever someone talked poorly about Mister Drew. Not that she didn’t think the man had his own flaws and peculiarities. But he was a dreamer. Sort of like her. She could sort of sympathize with his desire for things to be just like his dreams. To be perfect. _

_ “I’m goin’ to lunch. Why don’t you run off now and bother Thomas?” That was Lacie’s way of saying she was about to start beating the animatronics face in to blow off some steam and she didn’t want Allison to get hurt in the rage fest. The young actress had learned the double meanings long ago. If she hadn’t, there would be very little chance of her and Lacie having remained some form of friends. _

_ “You’ll get it working. Eventually.” Allison tried to reassure the other. Giving Lacie’s shoulder a pat before making her exit. _

\----------

Everything was like a damn haze. One minute she thought she heard voices talking over her. Calling her broken. A waste of time. Nothing of use. Then she’d hear other voices talking about abandoning some project. Then something about some place closing down. She thought she’d recognized the voices. But at times they would be too muffled for her to really place. And an instant later her vision would go dark and when she opened her eyes again it was like peering into some other world.

At one time the room had been brightly lit. The room still looked fresh and some semblance of clean. But then she’d go blind and when she regained sight the room looked as if it were rotting. Candles illuminating a dim light. Mold clearly growing from parts of the wall and even the ceiling. And some words written on the wall that she couldn’t quite make out. Save for one:

**_LIED._ **

What the ever loving Hell? Who had written that? Who had destroyed that room? How long had she been out for? She...could hardly remember a damn thing. And then she was out again. Faint footsteps and the sound of some woman laughing over the intercom being all she heard.

The next time she woke up, she counted down the seconds. Waiting to see if darkness would overtake her. Was she in some sort of drunken stupor? She wouldn’t remember the last time she drank. The stuff aggravated her ulcers too much, therefore she hadn’t touched the  _ devil’s juice _ in some time. But what else could cause her to be so...foggy? To feel so out of place. 

As the seconds ticked by and she remained awake, she started to notice things she hadn’t before. For one thing, she felt cold and numb. And stiff. And just generally out of place. When she would move her head she’d hear the softest of creaks. Damn, had she been laying on the table for so long that her bad back had finally given up on her?

She tried to move further. To raise herself up and fight through what ever sort of pain came with a stiff back, but to her surprise, there was no pain. Dizziness, yes. And her vision sort of bounced around, but other than that...wait...her vision.

Why...why was half of her vision gone? Why couldn’t she see out of her left eye? Raising a hand to her face, she recoiled at the fact she had  **_NO DAMN HAND!_ ** Where was her left hand? What...where was half of her arm even? A feeling of dread and horror ran through her as she eyed the frayed wires that stuck out of the nub of a robotic arm. Shaking it a few times before she realized it was  **HER** moving it. 

“ _ Zzz...wwhaaaa...zzz… _ ”

She couldn’t even let out a choked sob as she heard her voice. Was that even her voice? It was full of static and her own tone just barely managed to break through. And it  **HURT** . Why did it hurt? It was like pin pricks at her throat. The remaining hand she had was finally raised and it horrified her even more to see that  _ oh so  _ familiar part. The hand that wasn’t hers. That didn’t belong to her.

But to the damn animatronic. 

If she could, she would have been hyperventilating. But as far as she was aware she wasn’t evening breathing. Nor blinking. Nor anything she was supposed to be doing! Her body was cold and numb but also felt as if it were floating around. As if her body was like water slipping between someone’s fingers. 

She was panicking. That didn’t happen often. Lacie was  **NEVER** the type to throw a fit like some confused little girl. Wait, yes,  **LACIE!** That was her name. Damn, was she so stupid as to have possibly forgotten it? And...and what else could she remember? She tried hard to recall it. Blurred images in her head. Telling Bertrum she wanted one more go at the animatronic for the night. That she felt she might have figured out a fix to their latest problem with it. And then...and then a scream? Was it Bertrum who had been screaming?

What happened after that? She couldn’t remember and it made what was left of her vision go haywire. Lacie nearly feared she would black out again - but she didn’t. She remained awake. She tried to calm herself down. She tried to think of just what the  **HELL** was going on. But nothing came to mind. She instead looked over herself again, thought maybe it was just a bad dream. But it wasn’t. Lacie looked down at the body of the animatronic. The thing she despised so much and had put days upon days into. And it moved when she wanted to move. It responded to her. It  **WAS** her.

Her remaining hand rose to her face and felt around. Felt the curvature of that smile that most everyone in the warehouse hated. Found the metal plating of the completed side of the face. Felt the nuts and bolts that held it in place. Felt the empty eye socket and the few frayed wires that stuck out from it. Lacie winced when metallic fingers grazed one and caused an odd sensation to run through her. As if she’d been shocked. And the feeling just seemed to run down the entirety of her. As if it was following down through something under the metal.

That thought made her shiver. The entirety of what was going on made her shiver. And panic. Despite Lacie’s best efforts to calm down, she just couldn’t. She had enough sense through the panic to realize she needed help. That someone still had to be there. Someone that could help her. Bertrum! He would know what to do. He always did.

But where was he? Where was anyone? She just had to get up and look!

Lacie tried to swing her legs over the table and instantly found herself regretting the action. She wasn’t used to whatever had been done to her. The robotic legs swinging off the table faster than she had intended them too. The force caused her to completely roll off of the table and go crashing onto the floor. It hadn’t hurt but it certainly left her feeling embarrassed. Even if no one had been around to witness her mistake. 

Lifting her head from the floor she thought she’d heard something in the distance. Some weird gurgling sound and then shouting. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. But it was  **PEOPLE!** Ha! She knew someone still had to be there! Now how to get to them? Her remaining arm wasn’t acting as wonky as her legs. Lacie was able to roll onto her back and grab a hold of the edge of the work table. Pulling herself up so she could stand. She was like a toddler who was trying to learn to walk with legs that didn’t want to cooperate. The metallic joints that were her knees trying to buckle out from under her. Lacie only gripped the work table tighter. Trying to use it to steer herself forward and remain standing.

“ _ Zzzz...hheeee….llllllll….zzz…heeeell...pppp… _ ”

If she didn’t know what she’d been trying to say, she’d have thought she’d just spoken gibberish. The cry for help becoming more static like. Sounding as if she were calling the place Hell rather than  _ yelling _ out for assistance. And maybe the place really was Hell. Judging by how it seemed to look now. Molded and...abandoned and...just in so much disrepair. When had that all happened?

Lacie had just managed to drag herself to the second work table when she heard the sounds of footsteps coming her way. Relief running through her as she realized the people were coming to her.

“ _ He...eeeee….zzz…! _ ”

“What was that?” A voice she wasn’t familiar with asked. 

But one she  **WAS** familiar with responded “It just sounded like static.”

Allison! She was still there? Finally! Further relief went through her. Relief that turned to anguish and near terror as the footsteps grew nearer and odd shadows appeared on the wall. What...what the Hell was she looking at? Three of the shadows resembled those cartoons. Surely they were just messing with her right? Just a bunch of bozos wearing costumes! But that was unfortunately not the reality of the situation. For once the figures rounded the corner and came into Lacie’s view, she could truly see them for what they were.

That stupid wolf the railway ride was named after. Some...woman who was trying to play at being that angel character but completely off portions from what the cartoon  **OR** a normal woman should be. Another man lagging behind that wore one of the BendyLand children masks on his face, his skin pitch black and...drippy? They weren’t even the oddest of the bunch. Down lower was the little toon devil himself. Walking, breathing. Looking right at her.

Their arrival sent Lacie careening backwards. Losing her grip on the work table and tripping over a stool that got tangled up in her legs. She might have fractured something if she were still...human. But whatever she was took no damage, far as she was aware. Maybe a dent or two. But that wasn’t her biggest concern right now. Right now she was more focused on the  **FREAKS** that stood before her. They looked just as shocked as she felt. Though it was doubtful they were as utterly horrified.

“It can move?” The toon devil spoke up first, complete shock on his face.

The angel thing spoke next “I...it never has before. Never once when we’ve been here.” She sounded just like Allison. But that wasn’t her old friend. Allison was blonde. Allison was  **HUMAN** . Not some freak that ran around looking like some floozy angel cartoon “Is it okay?”

The angel thing tried to come near her, but the wolf stuck his arm out in front of her and shook his head. Oh what? Did he think Lacie was dangerous? She was missing her damn arm and could barely stand! They were bound to bring her more harm than she was to them! Granted, maybe it was better they thought her to be dangerous. It might keep them from harming her until she found some real help.  **NORMAL** help.

“Oh, please, Tom. What’s it going to do? It looks ready to shut down.”

_ Tom?  _ She thought the wolf cartoon was Buddy. Or was it Boris? Something with a B.

“He’s right to be wary,” The toon devil said, looking away from Lacie to instead look at the angel thing “It looks defenseles but...so did the Lost Ones.”

The what now? The freaks were shooting out a lot of words and things that Lacie for the life of her couldn’t piece together. Her working eye soon catching sight of the weapons the group help in their hands. Three pipes and a sword. Damn, if she were able to keep her ass standing, it would be one Hell of a  _ bar fight _ to have with those folks. But in that moment she was like a baby bird cornered by hungry cats. But she’d be damned if they took her without some sort of a fight.

Scanning nearby, she took notice of a wrench hanging slightly off the edge of the work table. Quickly she reached for it and grasped it in her remaining hand. The retrieval of the tool snapped the group before her to attention. Now looking far more concerned than they did before. The wolf was the only one to hold up his own own weapon. The others seemed uncertain.

“ _ Baaaaccccc...zzz….baa...kkkkkkk...zzz… _ ”

“Wait,” The toon devil held his hand up to prevent the wolf from advancing “I hear a voice through that. I swear I’ve heard it before.”

“A voice? I didn’t hear a voice.” The angel thing responded, looking rather confused.

“It was mixed in with the static. But I’m telling you I heard it, Allison.”

**_ALLISON?_ **

Lacie perked up at that. Lowering the wrench just the slightest bit as she focused on the sole woman of the group. But...how could it be? Allison didn’t look anything like the angel creature. But...Lacie wasn’t an animatronic either. And if she was mucking around in the body of some toy she once worked on, who was to say something similar hadn’t happened to Allison? God, what had happened there?

“ _ Al….sin….zzz… _ ” It still hurt to try and speak. And it hurt even more when she tried so hard to speak clearly only for her words to come out as if they were playing through some bad reception on the radio.

The toon devil held up his hand and stepped forward. He still held that pipe in his hands but even in her somewhat panicked state - Lacie knew he was trying to seem as non-threatening as possible. But that didn’t stop her from clutching her wrench tighter and pointing it in his direction. The wolf nearly came at her but the little devil gave him a pointed look.

“I’m just going for this, all right?” The creature pointed to the audio recorder that lay on top of the work table. Had that...been hers? She vaguely remembered using it once. There were loads of them in the studio. Something the crew had picked up to  _ vent frustrations _ . They were meant to destroy the tapes afterwards. She’d meant to destroy hers that night she’d gone back to fix up the animatronic. But then that scream had happened...that...everything she couldn’t remember had happened.

Lacie was only snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her own voice fill the room. And not the one that had static overtaking it. It was the one from the recording. Clear as day. Her lone eye fixated on what she could see of the audio recorder. Talking about her ulcer. Talking about the morons in the warehouse. Talking about that  _ mechanical demon _ . The very thing she was stuck as right now. Once the audio recorder let out a  _ click _ and signalled it was done, the toon devil looked toward her.

“Is that you?”

Yes. Yes it was her. She didn’t bother to say it outloud and cause herself further pain by speaking. Instead just nodding her head.

“Who...who is that…? On the tape?” The angel thing spoke up, looking a bit conflicted. Clutching the side of her head as if she were suffering from a headache. Oh, if only that girly knew of the headache Lacie was suffering from.

“I don’t know,” The toon devil answered with a shrug “These things aren’t marked. I just recognized the voice from the tape through the static.”

“ _ Lace….zzz…LaaaaaaLaaaaa...zzz… _ "  She slammed the wrench down on the floor in frustration. The group before her jumped in surprise at the action. The wolf looking ready to attack until the angel held her arm out to stop him. The woman’s eyes practically bored holes into Lacie. And started to make her grow rather uncomfortable. More so than she already was.

“Lacie.” The angel thing spoke “Is that...is that your name?”

It caught her off guard to even hear her own name. And at first she thought maybe the other had heard through the static. But she knew that wasn’t true. Her voice had been too mucked up for her to get her name out clear enough. And yet that...thing that stood there. The thing that had the voice of her old friend. That thing near her name.

So she nodded once more.

“How did you know that?” The toon devil asked.

“I...I don’t know. I’d never heard that tape before. But that voice. I swear I knew that voice from somewhere. It...it was the same when I’d hear Sammy’s voice if we were in his territory. Just...something at the edge of my mind but nothing ever really surfaced from it.”

“My voice?” The inky man had remained silent that entire time. Only speaking up when his name was said. Wait...Sammy? Was  **THAT** who that was supposed to be? That stuffy music director guy who she’d hear complain often about having to work on such silly jingles? If it was, what the Hell was he now? And why was he trouncing around in that stupid theme park mask?

The wolf growled in the inky man’s direction. A clear sign that he didn’t want the guy talking any further. Then the wolf’s expression switched to concern as he moved closer to the woman masquerading as the angel cartoon. But the angel...Allison? She only rebuffed his advances and moved closer.

“But you’re...you’re Lacie. I can almost see your face in my head and yet...yet I can’t. But I feel like I know you.” The angel’s eyes glanced over to the wolf “Did I know a Lacie?”

She wasn’t sure why the other was asking her canine companion for confirmation. Was it possible her memories were muddled about like Lacie’s were? The wolf seemed hesitant to answer at first but eventually gave a nod. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Was his voice just as jacked up as her own was?

“Do you remember anything?” The toon devil asked, advancing forward seeing as the angel had. It was making Lacie nervous with how they were surrounding her. She still wasn’t sure if she could trust them. Or believe the fact that two out of the four might have been people she once knew. Why did they look as if they had jumped in a vat of ink?

“ _ Zzzz...nnooooottt….wewewewewe...zzz… _ ” She slammed the wrench down again. A clear sign she was frustrated over the fact she could barely get a damn sentence out. Scaring the crap out of the others by doing so probably wasn’t the best idea. But it was the only way she knew to try and express her emotions. Seeing as her facial expression couldn’t be changed. As far as she was aware, she was always wearing that stupid smile of that creepy animatronic.

“This thing is weird.” “Shut up.”

She heard to toon devil whisper to himself. Glancing in his direction before looking at the others. None of them had seemed to hear it. And it wasn’t as if she could question it either. The lack of a decent voice was one thing. Becoming distracted by the advancing wolf was another. If she had the muscles needed to tense - she would have. Instead she pressed herself against the leg of the work table. Out of them all, the wolf was the one that expelled the most danger.

“Tom. It... **_SHE_ ** is just frustrated.” The angel thing warned. Tom merely shook his head and stuck his hands up in defense. Soon pointing to Lacie’s throat before going into some other signals she couldn’t quite figure out. But the angel could “You...can fix her?”

The next sign she could understand. One that meant  _ more or less _ . Hell, things couldn’t get worse if she let him have a go. Well, they could. The wolf could turn against her and disconnect whatever it was holding the robotic body together. Could also cut out her voice completely. But she supposed she really didn’t have nothing to lose.

“Tom, I don’t know if she trusts you to-” Lacie didn’t let the angel finish. Dropping her wrench and holding up a hand. Trying to signal to the wolf to give it a go. Pointing to her throat before giving a thumbs up. A sign of approval that she hoped he and the others understood. And they seemed to - thank God for small victories. The angel moving aside so that the wolf...so that  **TOM** could get to work.

“Did you ever help work on any of these things?” The toon devil asked. To which Tom responded by shaking his head. The wolf was more concerned about collecting a few scraps from around the room before settling himself in front of Lacie.

“A machine is a machine. At least that was what Tom used to tell me.” The angel spoke up. She had settled down as well so as to watch Tom work. Her stare was kind of...unnerving to be honest.

“Used to  **TELL** you?”

“Well write on paper.”

Lacie would have shaken her head at the pair if she could. But she didn’t think it was best to move when some wolf guy was working on her throat. Man, that was a sentence she’d never thought she’d say. Or think. Or really even consider. The whole situation was still something that had her ill at ease. There were still so many questions she wanted answers to. 

What had happened to the studio? Why did they all...look like that? Why was she supposedly trapped in the body of the animatronic she utterly hated to work on?  _ Where was Bertrum? _ They were all questions she hoped she would be able to ask once the Tom guy got her voice to work. If he even did. It felt weird as he worked. Fiddling around with wires in her throat. Pulling at a few and causing her to shudder. To feel...incomplete. At least until he would dig some discarded ones out of the scraps he’d collected and replaced them. Then he’d gone about opening up the paneling in the front of her chest. If she were still...well...her...it might have been something she smacked him for touching. But at the moment there was nothing there but metal, wiring and bolts. Things that the wolf went about fixing.

The rest of the ragtag looking group either sat around or explored the tiny work area. The guy that was  _ supposedly _ Sammy along with the toon devil were obviously looking around for items. What sort of items, she wasn’t sure. Meanwhile the angel, Allison  _ (?) _ , remained nearby and simply watched. Lacie had a feeling she was the one catching the angel’s eye rather than Tom being at work.

“Will it take much longer?” Allison questioned “We can’t stay here much longer. Who knows if she might have seen us through the cameras.”

Tom held up a finger to silence the angel, not even sparing her a glance as he continued his work. The angel responded by crossing her arms and letting out a huff. Another question to add to the pile though. Who was the  _ she _ that might have seen them? And why did it matter?

A moment later Tom was sitting straight up. He urged Lacie to try and speak with a wave of his hand.

“ _ Zzz...Is...is...that...zzz...my… _ ”

“It’s a little more clearer!” The angel smiled, leaning in far too close for comfort “I can actually tell what she’s saying.”

Tom leaned back in and fiddled with a few more wires. Some gears. Soon he closed up the opening of the chest and screwed back in the bolts. He once more urged Lacie to speak. No doubt feeling as if he had done all he could. She could relate to that feeling. Especially when it came to the animatronics.

“ _ zzz...Is...is that...zzz… _ ” She tried to focus. There was still static there, but not as much. If she focused, she could get her words out “ _ Is that...zzz...my…arm...zzz? _ ” Lacie pointed to the robotic arm that was part of the wolf’s left side. Both he and the angel glanced down at it before Allison burst out into laughter. Even the toon devil let out a snicker from his spot in the room. Tom simply let out a huff and shook his head. Coming to stand now that he was done. Even going so far as to start putting the tools back that he had borrowed. Ah, a good engineer. Actually knew how to pick up after himself. Those were few and far between to find.

“Sorry...sorry…” The angel uttered through her laughter, eventually calming down before smiling at Lacie “We didn’t...we hadn’t known that someone  **WAS** the robot. If we had…” Now she looked a bit guilty. Which made Lacie feel guilty for making her feel that way.

Thus she shook her head. No use crying over it. They probably had their reasons. Especially with how...dire things seemed. At least it felt that way. Despite the laughter from before, it was clear there was still some form of tension in the air. And Lacie wasn’t sure if it was because of her or that other  _ she _ that the angel had talked about. The one looking at them through cameras.

“ _ You didn’t...zzz...know… _ ”

“Still. Did it hurt? Were you...even aware when we took it?”

Again, she shook her head. She could only recall a few times she had  _ woken _ up. And none of them were particularly unpleasant. Just muffled voices and footsteps. Never anything that gave her much subsistence. Or pain. Thank God. What she was going through now was already traumatic enough. She didn’t need to have her arm being ripped off added to the pile. Ugh, she hated referring to the animatronic’s body as her own…

“Well ah, good. I’m sure we can find you a different arm to replace the one Tom took. You already seemed to have reattached your legs on your own at least. I only remember a little of you from before. Sort of. The name and the blurry face. Do you remember me? I’m...I’m Allison.”

She said it with a bit of uncertainty in her tone. As if she wasn’t sure herself if that was truly who she was. That gave Lacie room for pause, but she had no time to question it nor say anything about not having fixed her own legs before the angel was moving on to introduce the others.

“And, if you remember the studio how it used to be, maybe you remember who they once were. That’s Tom,” She pointed to the wolf “And the one looking over the soup can is Sammy.”

“I don’t go by that. I am my Lord’s humble-”

“And that’s Henry.” She pointed to each one of them as she spoke. And Lacie could only recall two of the three names given. Sammy, sort of knew him as the cranky music director. The Hell had he been about to say about being the Lord’s humble whatever? Crackpot. Writing those stupid jingles must have finally gotten to him. And Tom? She didn’t know any Tom. But a Thomas Connor she was aware of. The guy that had always been sweet on Allison. Was that who the wolf was supposed to be? He did have Thomas’ good eye for mechanics. And clung to Allison’s side like the actual Thomas did.

But Henry? She really didn’t know any Henry. Especially if he was some guy from one of the other departments like accounting. She really didn’t bother with those whiny, money grubbing punks. 

“ _ What...zzz...happened? Wheresssss...Bertrum? _ ”

The look on all of their faces went somber at that. As if none of them were sure on how to address her question. Allison was the first one to take the plunge and speak up. She always was, at least once she got more comfortable being around the rough and tough group that was the warehouse crew. Good times. Lacie might have smiled at the memory, a genuine smile, if she didn’t already have the creepy one plastered across her face.

“It’s...a lot to explain. A lot of things that we don’t have the time to talk about. Maybe once we’re actually safe-”

“ _ Zzz...at least...tell me...Bertrum? _ ” She at least wanted that. To know where her old employer was. Her  **TRUE** employer. Her old friend.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who that is.”

“I do.” The toon devil, Henry, spoke up. Stepping closer so as to ease himself into the conversation “I fought him.”

“ _ Fought...zzz? _ ”

She hadn’t known Bertrum to throw fists around since he was a young man in his twenties. That Henry guy must have really pissed him off, or freaked him out enough to get the grumpy old man that was Bertrum to start raising his hands again. 

“Yeah. Fought. Listen, we at least have the few seconds it’ll take me to tell her this. Then we can go.” Henry said to his companions, all of who looked very uncertain. Lacie was grateful when Henry ignored their looks and turned his attention back to her.

“Listen, the studio. It’s been closed down for awhile now. And your boss, Joey-”

“ _ Zzz...not...mine… _ ”

“He did some things. Horrible things. I can’t go over all the details. Like Allison said, we don’t have the time. So I can’t ease you into...what you are now. But I can at least tell you the basics. That the ink here. It did things. Things you wouldn’t even think of. Which is probably why you are the way you are now.”

Ink? She didn’t know anything about ink. Sure there were rumors going on about some  _ ink machine _ . But she always thought it was some cracked words shared over morning coffee by the higher ups in the studio. Or something that just gave those animator guys more ink for their projects. How could ink turn her into what she was now? 

Damn it. She wanted to ask. But her curiosity over Bertrum outweighed anything she wanted to know about that Drew guy’s ink.

“And Bertrum. The ink...it made him one of his creations. One of his machines. At least that was how I saw it. He tried to attack me, I fought him. I’m sorry but...he isn’t here anymore.”

She could tell he was putting her down gently. Trying to avoid the word  _ dead _ . But Lacie wasn’t some little girl who needed to be tiptoed around. Sure, yeah. It hurt to come to the realization. To hear that her old friend had become some...monster? That he had died. But she wasn’t going to cry, not that she thought she could in her current condition. Instead all she could do was grit her metaphorical teeth and clench her fist.

And it wasn’t like she would have been given much time to mourn even if she wanted to.

“We need to go. Can you walk?” Allison questioned.

Lacie glanced down at her legs. The other woman had mentioned how Lacie had apparently reattached them, but she hadn’t. She’d woken up with them already in place. Had someone else fixed  _ her _ body while she’d been out? It could have been possible since Tom had taken her arm without her having  _ woken _ up.

“ _ Barely...zzz… _ ” Was her response, her lone hand reaching up to the work table so that she could pull herself up once again on shaky legs. Allison stood as well and frowned, her expression full of pity. Ugh, Lacie hated to be looked at in such a way.

“We’ve already stayed her too long. I don’t know if Tom has time to fix your legs. If he even could.” Allison uttered. Tom looked uncertain himself, and though they lacked time the wolf still glanced around the room. Clearly looking for supplies to do so if need be.

“ _ Zzz...why...in a rush? _ ”

No one had time to answer her question. The static that signaled the intercom system caused them all to freeze in place. Each of them holding an expression of dread. Lacie on the other hand was just confused. Made more so when she heard Allison’s voice spark to life through the intercom system. But wait, wasn’t Allison standing in front of her? 

_ “There you all are,”  _ The tone was far more condescending and grated at Lacie’s nerves  _ “And here I thought I’d lost you. I see you two have aligned yourself with that copycat.” _

Allison, the  **REAL** one, least Lacie thought she was the real one, let out a huff. Clearly irritated by the lady speaking through the intercom. Lacie couldn’t help but to scan the room, trying to figure out just how the mysterious lady was seeing them. There weren’t any cameras in her old work station were there?

_ “It won’t do you much good. You’ve run long enough. There isn’t anywhere left for you to go.” _

“Henry! Sammy! Help Lacie!” The angel drew her sword and Tom readied his pipe “We need to go  **NOW!** ”

She didn’t have to repeat herself. The inky man and Henry bolted toward Lacie. Sammy came to her right side and hooked his arm under her armpits. Trying to hold her up steady despite the weight that was no doubt being pressed down on him. Those animatronics weren’t necessarily light after all. And Henry, well, he looked as if he wanted to do something but when he was only a few inches tall, there wasn’t much that he could really do.

_ “Leaving so soon?”  _ The lady on the intercom mocked them  _ “Just try it. There is nowhere to run, you little copycat. Now give me what is mine and I’ll promise to make sure your ink is used for only my best features!” _

“Come on!” Allison ignored the lady’s voice. Instead trying to direct them all forward and toward the grating that made up the left side of the narrow hallway wall. But just as she reached for it, a black mass rose from the ground on the other side. Pressing itself against the grating and trying to ooze through so as to get to the group.

“ _ Zzz...WHAT...zzz...THAT? _ ”

“Don’t ask.” Henry responded. It was clear that their exit had been blocked off. Especially as more of those oozing creatures appeared on the other side of the grating. 

“To the stairs! We need to get to the stairs!” Allison shouted before making her way forward and down the narrow hallway. Tom followed shortly after. The remaining three went at their own pace. For a bean pole music director, Sammy was holding his own as he dragged Lacie down the hall. Not that she was entirely dead weight though. She tried to pull herself along on wobbly and loosened legs. 

“More are coming!” Henry shouted from behind. Glancing over her shoulder, Lacie couldn’t believe what she saw. More of those inky masses falling out from stains on the walls in the work station. Some appearing from under the tables. More coming out from that grated off area.

What the Hell had happened there?

\----------

_ “You better run, Stein!” _

_ He was already out of breath. Huffing and puffing as he ran down the block. A few older children laughed as he raced by. Adults just shook their heads when they should have been helping. No one seemed to bat an eye at the young boy practically running for his  _ life _ from the three older boys chasing after him. No one seemed to care about the one being chased being utterly defenseless while the pursuers carried crow bars. _

_ “Just...just leave...me alone!” He yelled back in between gasping for air. Running was never his strong point. He felt like his lungs were on fire. And eventually he just couldn’t go anymore. Slowing down to the point where the older boys could catch up and grasp him by the back of his collar. A moment later Henry was thrown against a wall. Sliding to the floor and gasping for air. _

_ “Oh look, guys. Stein’s practically dyin’ here.” _

_ All three laughed in his face. Henry ignored them as he fished around in his pockets, grasping at his inhaler. The moment he pulled it out, one of the older boys slapped it out of his hand. The object rolling across the ground up until one of the boys put his foot atop it, basically threatening to smash it. _

_ “No…” Henry huffed “Please…!” _

_ “Now he’s practically beggin’!” _

_ They all started to laugh again. At least up until a cane came down  _ **_HARD_ ** _ on the one boy’s leg. Sending him careening back with his foot coming off of Henry’s inhaler. A different boy had appeared now. That one twirling around a cane and picking up Henry’s inhaler, soon tossing the thing back to the younger boy and giving Henry the chance to use it. Ah, sweet relief. _

_ “Three against one? Sort of sad if you ask me.” The new boy chuckled. _

_ “This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, Drew!” The boy who had been hit shouted, grasping at his knee and obviously trying not to cry. _

_ “It sort of is. You see, you’re sort of beating on my friend here.” The boy with the cane responded, continuing to twirl the object around in his hand. _

_ “He ain’t your friend.” _

_ “He is now.” The boy with the cane stared them down, waiting for them to advance. The three bullies looked wary, going from the new boy’s face and back to the cane. Eventually though they decided that Henry just wasn’t worth it. _

_ “Drew won’t always be here to protect you, Stein!” One of the boys shouted before they all ran away like cowering dogs. Henry breathed a sigh of relief once they were gone. Remaining on the ground as he stuffed his inhaler back in his pocket. He was surprised to find that the boy who saved him had sat down next to him in that amount of time. _

_ “Fancy thing you have there.” The boy said, motioning to where Henry had put back his inhaler “Don’t see many people have those around here. Can’t afford them.” _

_ “I’m not from around here.” _

_ “Clearly.” The boy laughed. _

_ Henry felt himself calming down around the new boy. Though he was older like those bullies, he was also kinder. Had the sort of air around him that made Henry relax. That was a hard feeling to come by when talking to people from the slums of New York.  _

_ “What are you doing out here anyway? Are you trying to get yourself mugged? Don’t think the folks out here won’t snatch that inhaler right off of you. That’s probably what those asses were coming after you for.” _

_ Henry frowned at that, looking away from the boy to instead eye the ground “I ran away from home.” _

_ “And to the slums?” He laughed “I usually see people heading the other direction.” _

_ Henry scrunched up his face at that “My home is passed the slums. My  _ **_REAL_ ** _ home. I was trying to get to it.” _

_ “Real home? What are you on about, Stein?” _

_ “Don’t call me that!” The young boy glared at the other. On the verge of tears like any child of eight years old would be “I’m not a Stein! I’m a Ross!” _

_ “Oh. Ooooh.” The older boy tapped his cane against the ground, almost as if in thought “One of those sorts of cases aren’t you? Hey, be happy you got a new family. I’d give anything to switch mine up. Especially if it got me out of here.” _

_ The other laughed but Henry did nothing more but scowl. How could someone say something like that? Henry didn’t ask to lose his parents. He didn’t ask to be adopted. Sure, the Steins were nice people. They treated him well enough despite his condition. But they still weren’t his real parents. And they never would be. Nor would he ever truly adopt their last name. He’d always be a Ross. _

_ “Okay,” The older boy spoke up again, pulling Henry from his thoughts “You aren’t a Stein. But I won’t call you Ross either. What’s your actual name?” _

_ He hesitated at first, not sure if he could trust the other boy despite the the elder having saved him. But eventually he relented with a sigh. What harm could a name do? And he certainly didn’t want to keep being called  _ Stein _. _

_ “Henry.” _

_ “Well nice to meet you, Henry.” The older boy shook his hand, a large smile plastered across his face “I’m Joey!” _

_ “Is that cane yours?” The younger suddenly blurted out. _

_ “What? No,” Joey laughed. He seemed to do that a lot, “It’s my grandpa’s. He’s six feet under now, so he isn’t using it anymore. I just like to carry it around to scare off those thugs. My grandpa once broke my pop’s arm with this thing. Figured I could do the same to others who pick on the weak.” _

_ Henry narrowed his eyes “I am not weak!” _

_ Joey quirked a brow in amusement “Really now? Please, tell me what you planned to do once those boys got ahold of you.” Henry didn’t have an answer for that. And felt rather embarrassed as he looked away with a slight blush on his face. He would have been beaten to a pulp had Joey not come around and saved his skin. _

_ “That’s what I thought.” The older boy uttered with a shake of his head. But he didn’t sound rude or mocking when he said it. Instead giving Henry a reassuring pat on the shoulder “Give it a few years. You’ll grow to be bigger and tougher than those morons in no time.” _

_ “How can you be so sure?” _

_ “I can just tell. You and me? We’re a lot alike.” _

_ Henry looked confused at that. The two just barely knew each other beyond their names! And clearly they were nothing alike. Joey had no fear when it came to standing up to those bullies. Meanwhile Henry had shrunk back and shook like a lily in the wind. But despite that fact, it was rather nice to have someone have some sort of confidence in Henry. It didn’t feel as if Joey were being fake either. _

_ At the time...it really hadn’t felt that way… _

_ “Joseph! Joseph where are you?” _

_ Joey perked up at the sound of an older woman’s voice. His hand falling off of Henry’s shoulder as he quickly scrambled to stand, nearly getting tangled in his own long legs. He gave Henry a smirk before pointing to an alleyway nearby “Take that way and then a left. Go home, To your new or real one. I don’t care. But be sure to come back here eventually and find me down by the rundown theater.” _

_ “There’s a theater out here?” _

_ “Of course there is!” He proclaimed before wincing at the sound of the older woman’s voice ringing out again “I’m always there. But I’m only telling you that, all right?” _

_ “Why?” Henry questioned as he came to stand. Why did the older boy put so much trust in someone he just met?  _

_ “Because like I said, you and I are a lot alike. I sense a dreamer in you, Henry. And dreamers stick together.” He didn’t give Henry a chance to respond. Soon bolting off in another direction. Leaving behind the voice of the woman that was clearly calling out for him. _

_ And despite his better judgement, Henry would end up coming back to those slums. To the theater to meet with Joey. They became fast friends after that. Talk about their dreams for the future. Draw on the walls of the old theater. Create stories out of nothing. It made Henry...happy. Made him forget all of his troubles over the past few months. And he assumed he helped Joey to forget whatever he’d been running from. Though the older boy never divulged anything more about his home life. Or anything about his life in general. Always keeping it a mystery and saying it wasn’t important. To just focus on the now and the future. _

_ Henry never thought to question it at the time. Because Joey was his only friend. His only  _ **_TRUE_ ** _ friend. He hadn’t wanted to ruin that. Especially seeing as Joey would protect him from the bullies of both the slums and more affluent areas. But, they wouldn’t be fighters forever. Especially not after Joey broke his leg. The bone never healed right and soon enough that cane wasn’t just for beating others. _

_ Eventually they had to just run. Run away from the bullies. Their homes. From just about everything. But in the end, neither cared. So long as they had each other, they were going places. _

\----------

**_‘We’re gonna die. In the name of Joey Drew we are gonna die.’_ **

_ ‘Will you shut up?’ _

**_‘Always thought I’d go out with a bang. You know, with soup cans falling on top of me and crushin’ me to death. Not really lookin’ forward to gettin’ torn to shreds by that angel.’_ **

_ ‘Shut up!’ _

Henry tried to drown out the voice of the ink demon. Tried to focus on the there and now. They were utterly surrounded. Having managed to fight their way out of Research and Design. Alice’s forces were practically spilling from the walls. And though there were five of them - only two of them were capable of fighting effectively. 

Allison and Tom were taking the brunt of the attack. Leading the charge as they tried to create a path out of Storage 9. Allison had told they they just had to make it out of there and get to the lobby. Get to the vent. Alice’s  _ cult _ wouldn’t follow them there. They were all too afraid of the vents. But the task of actually getting there was a difficult one. 

Sammy and Henry had to hang back and do what they could. Henry able to take out a few Lost Ones by smashing in their knees and cracking them in the heads once they fell. But his new form didn’t have as much strength as his human one had. It took far more just to bring the ink creatures down. And Sammy? He couldn’t even use his weapon! Clutching the ink created pipe to his chest as he instead would punch and kick at those who he stated betrayed him and the  _ lord _ .

And Lacie, the poor woman was propped against a wall. Trying to keep herself standing as Searchers came at her. Henry and Sammy did what they could to protect her, but every so often a Searcher would sneak through and go for Lacie. But, even in her new form, she wasn’t a damsel in distress. Using her remaining arm to throw some hefty punches and knock the Searchers back. Henry made a note never to underestimate her.

But it still wasn’t enough. Each enemy they took down - more came to replace them. And Alice just laughed and laughed over the intercom. Taunting them. Telling them to give up. 

_ “Aren’t you growing tired?”  _ She asked  _ “Wouldn’t it be easier to just give up and come to your angel?” _

They all tried to ignore her. They all tried to keep fighting. But things were looking grim. And only turned worse when the floor of Storage 9 started to shake. The walls rattling with objects falling off of shelves. Henry let out a  **YELP** when one of the fake Bendy heads nearly hit him. But the rumbling caused the fighting to stop, at least for a moment. Everyone confused by what had just happened.

But it all started to become clear as different amusement park objects started to move. Forgotten bumper cars flying forward and taking out a group of Lost Ones. A duck ride boat falling on top of some Searchers - and nearly Tom, but the wolf was quick to step out of the way. Henry turned his head to a familiar room. He couldn’t see the door, but he knew who lay behind it. And if everyone else that he’d seen die had come back to life, who was to say a certain someone else hadn’t?

But Bertrum had only been the octopus ride. If it was truly him, how was he controlling the whole discarded park?

_ “What do you think you’re doing?”  _ Alice screeched across the intercom  _ “You lost your rights to this area! It’s mine!  _ **_MINE!_ ** _ Get them before he does!” _

Henry looked to the others, who were just as confused as he was. But they took the confusion as a chance to try and escape. The Lost Ones and Searchers were distracted. Fumbling over attacking amusement park rides that came at them in full force. Allison and Tom were nearly run over by one of the bumper cars as they made their way to the rest of the group.

“What’s going on?” Allison questioned.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s Bertrum, but-”

“ _ Zzz...Ber...trum…? _ ”

He looked to Lacie with a frown “No. No it’s no the same Bertrum, trust me. We need to-”

They all jumped when the lights from the haunted house entrance suddenly started flashing in an erratic manner. Shining so bright that it was nearly blinding. One of the ride carts flung out from the entrance and soared over the group’s heads, soon smashing into the wall behind them. 

**_“I’M...STILL...HERE…!”_ **

Bertrum’s voice rang out throughout the room. It was so loud that everyone winced, even the Lost Ones and Searchers. Henry thought his nonexistent ears might be ringing. More chaos unfolding as more and more rides attractions and carts flung about the room. If they didn’t leave soon, they would be taken out. Especially seeing as the enemy was regaining their senses and coming for them, despite the risk of being crushed or run over by flying debris.

“ _ Ber...trum…zzz! _ ” 

He frowned as he looked to Lacie. She had already pushed herself off the wall and limped forward in the direction of the haunted house. Allison immediately stopped her by placing a hand on her chest, not having much difficulty holding the malfunctioning robot back  “Lacie!” She pleaded “We need to go!”

“ _ Zzz...but...trum...zzz! _ ” Her voice was full of static. A clear sign she wasn’t focused on talking and was instead focused on getting to her old friend. Henry knew how that felt. He’d tried to beg and plead when he’d had to fight Boris. But sometimes there was no use to the screaming and begging. Sometimes old friends were just gone.

The enemy was closing in on them. Tom had already had to hit two with his pipe as the group tried to back up towards the stairs. Enough of the flying objects were hitting the Lost Ones and sending them halfway across the warehouse. And the Searchers were becoming too scared to come out of their puddles.

_ “Get them!”  _ Alice shouted over and over again from the intercom. Only some of her followers gaining the courage to keep advancing despite the dangers.

“Come on!” Allison shouted. But Lacie broke from her grasp and burst forward, nearly stumbling as she did. But sheer will must have kept her standing as she advanced forward on shaky legs.

“Lacie!” Henry called out, but the woman wasn’t listening. And soon a group of Lost Ones had separated them. Allison desperately trying to fight her way through the crowd so as to get to Lacie. The chance they had before was completely gone. They were surrounded once more but now with the added danger of flying debris. Debris that could easily take their heads off.

“Lacie!” Allison was crying out, continuing to fight. Tom was trying to guard her but it was clear he had the same thought as Henry - that they weren’t getting to Lacie. As much as he hated to think it, the other woman had made her choice. And she chose to go after Bertrum. Frankly, Henry couldn’t blame her. Old friends stuck together after all. Helped each other. That was what they were supposed to do anyway.

“Vassal!” Sammy called out, kicking in the head of one of the more courageous Searchers “There is an opening to the stairs. We-”

He didn’t have time to finish as a Searcher grabbed hold of his leg and tried to pull him down. In the heat of the moment, Sammy didn’t think twice as he brought his ink pipe down on the creature - only for his weapon to slam against the enemy’s mining helmet. A completely ineffective blow.

“Didn’t make it count!” Sammy cried out “Didn’t make it count!” Another Searcher grasped his leg and soon the  _ prophet _ was on the floor. Sinking into the puddles along with those that held him down.

“Sammy!” Henry tried to race over. A hand flying out, though he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to pull the other back. One of the Searchers swiped out at him, causing Henry to recoil and fall back. All he did was blink - and Sammy was gone. Dragged back into the puddles and no doubt heading right into Alice’s clutches.

Henry would have been a victim too if he hadn’t been lifted off the ground by friendlier hands. Any other time he might have protested being carried, but it was clear that Tom was in no mood for an argument. The wolf having tucked Henry under his left arm. In his other he held Allison over his shoulder. The woman putting up far more of a fight than Henry.

“No! We can get to her!” Allison shouted, hitting Tom’s back with her free hand. Failing to struggle out of his grasp “Lacie! Lacie!”

Tom ignored her pleas, gritting his teeth as he bolted toward the stairs. The path momentarily opened to them as more and more Lost Ones and Searchers were taken down by Bertrum’s tantrum. And from the top of the stairs, Henry could have sworn he saw Lacie making her way into the haunted house. He didn’t dare call out to her, Allison was doing that enough. And it was clear Lacie wasn’t listening.

Once to the door Tom raced outside, practically throwing the other two to the ground and forcing the metal door to close shut. A few sparks flew out of his mechanical arm but eventually the door closed with a loud screeching sound. Lost Ones and Searchers were starting to bang against it moments later. Ink slowly pooling out from the bottom of the door. But in another moment something loud and far heavier hit the metal door. Enough to leave a dent as the object nearly broke through to the other side. Then something else hit the door then another thing. A few more loud bangs before all noise stopped. The ink that had been making its way out through the cracks had receded or stopping entirely. Tom fell back against the railing behind him, letting out a hefty sigh. Though he didn’t have long to catch his breath. Allison was on him in seconds, hitting his chest in anger.

“We could have helped! We could have…” She was hysterical. Acting out in a way Henry had never seen before. Even Tom seemed surprised but didn’t trying to fight against the  _ punishment _ . Letting Allison take out her frustration on him “I was remembering! Every second I was and you...you left her back there! I could have helped!”

She cried out, soon running out of energy as she moved forward and leaned her head against Tom’s chest. Her shoulders shaking as if she were about to cry. Could ink creatures do that? Could they shed tears for those they had lost?

**_‘Dang. This is depressin.’_ **

_ ‘Shut up. Just...shut up.’ _

And surprisingly the ink demon did. Remaining silent as Allison quietly sobbed and Tom put his arms around her. Henry fell back onto the floor and stared at the ceiling. It had all gone so wrong so fast. Losing Lacie. Losing Sammy. They all could have easily been lost in there.

What were they going to do now?


	10. All Eyes On Me

_ She was running late! Having taken off her heels just so she could gain a bit more speed. She’d have to wash her feet immensely once she arrived at the studio, Lord only knew what disgusting things were embedded into the sidewalks of New York. But in that moment, it wasn’t important. Her  _ **_JOB_ ** _ was the only thing on her mind. Getting to the studio at a decent time was the only thing that stuck out. _

_ She’d have to apologize to both Sammy and Joey for her tardiness. The one day she had to record lines that week and she was  _ **_LATE_ ** _. But at least with her running, she’d save a few minutes. Bursting through the doors of the studio and nearly scaring the receptionist half to death. The woman glanced over her desk with wide eyes. _

_ “M-Miss Campbell?” _

_ “Sorry...sorry for being so loud...Janice.” _

_ Susie had to take a moment to catch her breath. Leaning against a wall to slip into her heels. She was sweaty and no doubt her hair was poking out in different directions. But she’d at least walk into the recording booth with her shoes on! She’d worry about the rest of her  _ looks _ later. _

_ “What...what are you doing here?” The receptionist asked, looking a bit concerned. That certainly didn’t go with Janice’s usual ‘don’t care’ attitude. _

_ “I’m here to record lines, of course. And don’t tell me I got the wrong day. I know for a  _ **_FACT_ ** _ I’m here on the right day for once.” Susie couldn’t help but to chuckle. Janice looked as if she wanted to say something else, but snapped her mouth shut and simply went back to looking at whatever papers were on her desk. Susie might have stayed around to question such out of character behavior if she had time. Instead shrugging it off and making her way to the music department.  _

_ She could hear the band practicing as she neared, and not wanting to disturb them, she went the back way to the recording booth. Letting out a deep breath to once again regain some composure before she opened the door. _

_ “Sorry I’m so late, Sam-” _

_ Her sentence was cut off as she took notice of not one but  _ **_TWO_ ** _ people in the recording booth. Sammy stood to her left. A paper in hand and the same wide eyed expression that the receptionist had given her. And to her right was...Allison Pendle. Someone Susie had known to be a  _ true deal _ small time actress yet a beginner in the voice acting field. Perhaps she was going to voice the dancing chairs that Susie had left behind? Well good! It meant she could focus on just her Alice Angel routine! _

_ “I didn’t get the wrong time did I? I was sure this was when we were supposed to record lines.” She went about digging in her purse for the paper she had written her recording sessions on. Soon pulling it out and smiling at the pair “Oh! I didn’t. Am I just catching you at the end of your session? I’m Susie, by the way. Voice of Alice Angel. I don’t think we’ve really met till now.” She looked to the other woman and watched as a frown developed on Allison’s face. The woman couldn’t even hold Susie’s gaze as she looked away. _

_ “Oh come on now, I don’t bite!” She chuckled. _

_ “Susie, what are you doing here?” Sammy finally asked as he put his papers down. Susie was just barely able to catch the words on them. The script for Alice Angel’s lines. _

_ “I just told you! I’m here to record my lines. Don’t tell me  _ **_YOU_ ** _ were the one to forget we had a session today.” _

_ Sammy was now wearing a frown too. Susie didn’t like that. She hated the tension that was in the air. And a moment later she realized the band had stopped playing. Glancing over the shoulders of the other two, she could see a few of the members glancing over through the window. Only looking away when they saw her looking. Sammy caught her gaze and let out a huff, pulling on a string and letting the curtain of the recording booth fall into place and block her from seeing the band room. _

_ “Didn’t you get the memo?” He finally asked, turning his attention back to her. _

_ “What memo?” Now she was getting annoyed. _

_ “Alice Angel will now be voiced by Miss Allison Pendle.” _

_ It seemed as if the world came crashing down at those words. Susie crumpled the paper she had in her hand. Looking at Sammy and waiting for him to laugh and say it was just a cruel joke. But the music director didn’t do  _ pranks _ or things like that. He looked deathly serious. Her gaze turned to Allison. The little tramp couldn’t even look at her! She could...she would steal Susie’s most beloved part and not even spare her a damn  _ **_GLANCE?_ **

_ “Alice Angel is  _ **_MY_ ** _ role!” She argued, her attention back to Sammy. The man simply shook his head. _

_ “Not anymore. Look, if you have a problem with it, go talk to Joey. I thought he’d already told you.” _

_ “Does it look like he already told me?” She shouted. Her head snapped back in the direction of Allison “And you! You would...you would come in here and take my role? You have movies and little shows to trounce around the background in and yet you would-” _

_ Sammy suddenly stepped between her and Allison, holding up his hands as a means to try and stave Susie off “I already told you. If you have a problem with this, go talk to Joey. Throwing blame at Allison isn’t going to help you.” _

_ Susie shot him a glare. Oh, she wasn’t the violent type. But in that moment she wanted to slap him. Instead she simply clenched her fists and turned around “Maybe I will.  _ **_I’M_ ** _ the voice of Alice Angel. Not...not her.” _

_ And with that she stormed out, heading in the direction of Joey Drew’s office. _

\----------

She fiddled with the tools on her table. Sammy should  **THANK** her. It wasn’t often that she cleaned her equipment in between  _ victims _ . But he was a special case. And oh, would she have so much fun with what she had planned for him. Pulling out some items and setting them on the table. Items she hadn’t used on others before. But that was because she had no reason to. She didn’t need those slugs and wastes of life to remember their sins. Especially because, in their previous lives, she couldn’t recall them doing anything to truly harm her. Not in the same way Sammy had.

Sure, they all had looked the other way! Sure, they all let her go through the studio that day thinking she still had a role to play. Offered her fake smiles and words of pity. Telling her she’d find a new role. Telling her she still had the talent to do so. Liars. All  **LIARS** . It was why she took their ink from them. But at least, in their past lives, they had tried to make who she once was feel better. Tried to make their true  _ angel _ feel needed in the world.

Unlike  **_HIM_ ** . He hadn’t cared at all at the time. His words and tone had been so harsh and now he had the gall to not remember any of that? He went on and on and on about his past sins and why they all needed to repent and worship that stupid ink demon. And yet, he couldn’t remember a damn thing of what he’d done? Couldn’t remember just how he’d hurt her? Couldn’t even remember the name  **SUSIE CAMPBELL?**

Well, she’d make him remember. She’d give him that pain back and give it back tenfold. Sammy wasn’t allowed to live the  _ easy _ life of being a creature made of ink with little to no knowledge of who he once was. Because out of them all, he was the one who was least deserving of such bliss.

\----------

_ “Wake up, Sammy! I’m not covering for you again!” _

The voice sounded so far away. He could just barely make out the words, only being brought to attention by the fact the person had used his not yet reclaimed name. The prophet eventually opened his eyes at their call. His vision was blurry. He couldn’t make out who was in front of him. They were small, looking down on him. And they certainly weren’t covered or made of ink. A hand against his shoulder, trying to shake him awake. And behind the person...was that light? It wasn’t like the dim lights of the studio. It was...brighter. It felt warm. He wanted to see more of it. But the person before him stood in the way.

The prophet closed his eyes for a split second. The ink that made up his body felt as if it were flowing in different directions. He hadn’t felt such discomfort since he’d been reborn from the ink for the first time. Feeling like one of his legless followers. Well...former followers. Either way, he didn’t like the feeling. When he reopened his eyes, he grew tense. The scene had changed. And though his vision was still a blurry mess, he could tell he was in the studio again. Though it was better lit than what he was used to. His attention on the light was only brief as he then took notice of a blurred mass in front of him. And when that mass spoke, it sent a shiver up the prophet’s spine.

_ “Asleep at your desk again, Samuel? Can’t have that now. What if investors came by and saw this? They’ll think you slackers are overworked. Wake yourself up and stop loafing around.” _

The voice gave him a mix of fear and anger, though he didn’t understand why. He thought he could recall a distant memory. One of a man sitting across from him at a table. But just as soon as it came it was gone. The terrifying man just another lost memory. And perhaps...that was for the best. Seeing as how he had reacted to the man’s voice, maybe it was better to not remember him at all.

“I said... **WAKE. UP.** ”

A hand slapped against his face. His head fell to the left and he couldn’t help but to scowl as he realized who it was, recent memories slowly coming back to him. The angel...she’d gotten him. The followers she had turned against him had dragged him into the inky puddles and brought him to her. He couldn’t recall much when they had spat him out at her feet. He vaguely recalled seeing a dustpan in the angel’s hands before he’d passed out. Or rather - been knocked out. Was that karma that had bit him in the rear? Seeing as he’d used the same  _ weapon _ to knock out the vassal when they’d first met.

“I know you’re awake in there.” The angel interrupted his thoughts. Her fingers grasping onto his chin. Nails digging rents into his ink. She forced him to look at her, her glare mixed with a look of amusement. No doubt rather  _ proud _ of herself for finally having him in her clutches. Honestly, he never understood why she had it out for him. Nor why he was one of the only ones she would touch without her rubber gloves. Even now, she held onto him without fear of his ink  _ infecting _ her. But why? What made him so  _ special _ in her eyes?

He didn’t grace her words with any sort of response. The only confirmation she got that he was truly awake was him moving. Trying to pull away. But more realization came to him. It didn’t take him long after that to realize he was strapped down to one of the angel’s torture tables. Wrist strung up over his head. Ankles pinned down. He’d heard stories of the tables from his followers, from the few who managed to remember their traumas after being reborn from the ink. None ever escaped, after all, to tell a full story. The lot of them just had bits and pieces to go off of. But one thing was always a shared memory between his followers.

_ The table. _

They would talk about being strapped down. Unable to move. Their ink unable to slide out of the odd restraints the angel put them in. The prophet was just barely able to look up and see that said restraints were just simple leather, from the look of it. How could they not slide through them? Even his own body refused to reshape itself to try and slip away. The angel must have been able to tell what he was doing. Letting out a laugh as her grip on his chin was finally released.

“You won’t get away no matter how hard you try. None of you are ever able to,” She turned her back to him, yet continued to speak “They fear the restraints. I’ve heard the stories some of those wiggling slugs tell about me. The ones that remember at least.” She stopped in front of a table that was behind him and off to the left somewhere. The prophet was unable to incline his head that far to see what the other was messing with. No one ever talked about the tools the angel used, because no one ever remembered them.

“Funny thing is, the restraints have nothing special about them. Any other time, you all could easily slip through.” Finally, she came back into his line of sight. The prophet’s ink ran cold as he saw the giant syringe in the angel’s hands. The ink inside slowly sloshing about with each of her movements. A moment later she was plunging the needle into his chest. The prophet gave out a cry as the foreign ink was pushed into his body. The needle being forced into him wasn’t all that pleasant either.

“Do you feel it?” She asked “That  **THICK** , juicy ink. That is what keeps you all in place. Keeps you solid enough for me to do what I need to. You all should feel honored I share it with you.  **YOU** most of all. Do you know how much of this I’ve pumped into you just to keep you strapped down?” 

The needle was finally removed. A sickening pop was heard as an ink bubble on his chest burst open. Alice didn’t even react as some droplets splashed onto her dress. She simply turned around and returned to her desk. Fumbling around with more of her tools and leaving the prophet to try and catch his  _ breath. _ By the demon’s name, that hadn’t felt good. It wasn’t unbearable but it certainly made his ink stand on end. The whole of him feeling more solid while at the same time his ink seemingly  _ melted _ off of him in waves. Little droplets either staining his already ink covered trousers or hitting the floor.

“Don’t fade away on me just yet, Sammy. I still have much more planned for you.” He was brought back to attention by something cold running under his chin. It was...an odd feeling, if he were being honest. He was always some form of cold or numb. But the device the angel held just radiated the sort of energy that sent shivers up his spine. Even more fear coming to him as he saw she held  **TWO** of them. Small silver rods with a plethora of what he assumed were wires attached to them. Very little ink coated the metal, making it rather obvious she rarely used those  _ toys _ on anyone. Should he be  _ honored _ that she had no doubt been saving them for him?

“Do you like them?” She questioned, taking notice of how he was staring at the rods “I’ve only ever used them once before.”

“On?” 

“Myself.” Well, that certainly was a surprise. She had...experimented on herself? “Don’t look so surprised, Sammy. Not that you really can in your state. How do you think I’m able to remember so much of who I once was? Unlike the rest of you slithering slugs.”

She scowled in his direction. The prophet really never cared to know how the angel remembered so much of her life before the ink. He always just assumed it was because of her clearly more tainted structure. He never envied her for being able to remember. After all, what was the point of remembering when one was still under the grip of the ink? He chose to only want to remember once the Lord granted him his body back. A body he couldn’t entirely remember, but still desired to have.

“Now it’s your turn to remember.” Alice uttered under her breath, taking one of the rods and sliding it down the side of the prophet’s face. He was surprised how long it had taken him to realize he wasn’t wearing his mask. The angel no doubt having disposed of it while he’d been passed out. The loss of his cover only served to bring about anxiety that mixed with his fear.

“The Lord is not ready for me to remember yet.” He spoke, a few cracks in his voice that the angel picked up on. Alice quirked a brow upward before laughing in his face.

“The  _ Lord? _ You mean that stupid cartoon demon? What do you think a cartoon that you used to hate would give you? What sort of power do you think that thing has?”

“I would never hate my Lord.”

His words only served to anger the angel further. Alice taking one of the rods and shoving it into the side of the prophet’s head. He winced at the feeling, it was almost as unpleasant as the needle. But unlike the syringe, his ink seemed to mold around the rod. The process repeated as the angel shoved the second rod into the other side of his head. She had to apply so much pressure just to push the things through the now thickened ink of his body. He still wasn’t sure how such things could get him to remember. And he still didn’t  **WANT** to! It wasn’t time yet! The angel could not gift him back his memories. That honor was for the ink demon and the ink demon alone! 

The prophet started to thrash about. His head turning in every which direction it could to try and shake the rods out, but neither budged. The ink of his body held them firmly in place. He had to wonder if they’d stay that way if he hadn’t been injected with all of that thick ink. Perhaps he might have had a chance. Perhaps…

He only stopped momentarily when he heard the squeaky sound of wheels. Looking ahead of him to see that the angel had moved her cart of tools to be directly in front of him. He saw the syringe. He saw a few tiny knives and one rather large one. And in the center of the cart was a large black box with wires going inside of it. Wires that led to the rods currently stuck into the sides of his head.

“Do you at least remember what this is? No, of course you wouldn’t. You don’t seem to remember a thing outside of this studio. Or anything before you became such a  _ pious _ puss.” The angel’s scowl grew, her finger hovering over a tiny switch on top of the black box. True, he didn’t know what that thing was, but it still sent dread coursing through him. 

“But you’re going to remember. You’re going to remember  **ME** . You’re going to remember your  **ANGEL!** ”

The switch was flipped and the result was nearly instant. The prophet screamed as volts of electricity traveled throughout his entire being. Clung to every particle of his ink. Was the immense pain how she expected him to recall anything? Because it sure as the Lord’s name was not doing that! He could only focus on how it felt, shutting his eyes tight for a moment before opening them again.

But when he did...everything looked so different.

\----------

_ “Did you sleep out here again?” His brother asked, giving a nudge to Sammy’s leg with his foot. The younger boy responded by mumbling something under his breath and keeping his eyes shut. Only opening them when the other grabbed his shoulders and started to shake him “Come on, Sammy! I’m not spending my morning covering for you!” _

_ The younger let out a huff, shoving his brother away before he slowly came to stand. Ugh, he’d have to change his clothes before he started his chores. Maybe do a quick wash down too. The hay he slept in could sure make him itch all over. Didn’t help that he’d probably gotten bit by a few bugs while out there. But such was the price he paid to be able to sit up all night and write some music. Doing so in the house might get him a scolding after all. _

_ “You gonna even be able to make it through the day?” His brother asked, collecting up the various music sheets Sammy had spread throughout the barn floor. _

_ “Yes. Maybe. I’ll manage.” Sammy yawned, picking up a few sheets himself before collecting his banjo. One day he’d be able to play more than just his  _ hillbilly chords _ , as his Pa so liked to call it. He’d be able to write music for the piano. Or the drums. Maybe even one of those fancy violins! God, if he could have a violin… _

_ “Hey, hey! Earth to, Sammy!” He was taken from his thoughts as his brother snapped his fingers right in front of his face. The younger scowled before giving the other a light shove. _

_ “I’m here, I’m here! Go to the stables, I’ll be there soon.” _

_ “Pfft, sure. It’ll be like yesterday where I had to come wake you after you fell asleep in the sink. You can’t keep doing this sort of stuff, you know. Pa is gonna catch on eventually.” His brother handed off the rest of the music sheets to Sammy. The younger tucked his banjo under his arm and nervously shuffled the papers into order. He knew his brother was right...but… _

_ “If Pa would just let me play in the house…” _

_ “And keep the rest of us up all night? Not a chance.” The other chuckled. _

_ “You know that’s not why he won’t let me play in the house. I swear he only lets me keep my banjo is ‘cause Ma makes him.” A frown marked Sammy’s face. His Pa always said that music wasn’t something to make a man out of anyone. That it could be a minor hobby, but not a career. And certainly not something to take him away from his  _ oh so _ important farm work. Had to contribute to the family business above all else after all. Couldn’t do anything beyond that! Such sentiments always made Sammy roll his eyes. _

_ “Listen,” His brother spoke up with a sigh, placing a hand on the younger’s shoulder “I like your music. Ma likes your music. And when you get older, if that’s what you wanna do, you know we’ll support you.” _

_ “But?” _

_ “But...right now you gotta do what makes Pa happy. And you have responsibilities here. And those responsibilities mean you got to get more than just an hour of sleep in you.” _

_ Sammy’s frown only continued to grow. His brother picked up on it and let out a sigh “Tell you what. What if tonight I come out here and listen to a few of the songs you cooked up?” _

_ The younger looked up at that, eyes widening and frown slowly fading “Wait. Really?” A smile was slowly starting to form. He rarely ever got to play music for anyone besides himself. And it would help his writing if he were able to play something and garner some feedback on it! _

_ “Yeah. Really. You just gotta promise me you’ll go to bed at a decent hour.” _

_ Sammy was practically jumping for joy by that point. Nodding vigorously as he made his way to the barn doors, his brother following behind. _

_ “I promise! I really promise! Aaron, you better be ready for the best concert of your life!” _

\----------

Aaron? Aaron, Aaron,  _ Aaron. _

The name swam around in his mind as the memory cemented itself into his inky brain. It was...astonishing really. How a few painful volts could make him recall something so vividly. It wasn’t blurry. The voices weren’t muffled. It was a true memory that he had basically just reenacted in his head.

A brother. By the Lord’s name he had a brother. And parents. One, based on the conversation, didn’t seem fond of music but he  **HAD** them. Oh, what were they doing now? Did they know of his fate? No, such kindly people wouldn’t have left him to rot there in the ink chasms if they did. But where-

“Hey, answer me in there. What did you see? I heard you mumbling something.”

The angel took him from his thoughts as her nails dug into his chin again. The black box had clearly been turned off, seeing as the prophet wasn’t spasming in pain nor recalling anything beyond a brother and some farm. Oh, he could recall what a farm was now too. Certainly a more pleasing sight than the studio walls.

“Aaron…” He responded. A crack in his tone. Just because the electricity no longer surged through him it didn’t mean he still didn’t feel the after effects. The ink of his body felt weighted. He felt as if he were holding the entirety of himself up upon his own shoulders. The angel released her hold on him when he uttered the name. Her scowl still firmly in place as she made way back to the black box.

“Be it like you to make this difficult.” He heard her mutter, a finger hovering over the switch. The prophet straightened at that, shaking his head and trying to plead with her.

“No! No more!” The pain, it was gruesome. But that wasn’t why he wanted her to stop. He had already said he didn’t want to remember anything because of  **HER** . The Lord was the one meant to return such precious things to him! What would his savior think if He found out His own prophet had taken such  _ gifts _ from the angel? 

Alice glanced at him momentarily. Her scowl seemed to soften for the briefest of moments. But just like that the mild softness was gone. Her finger pressing down on the switch and sending electricity coursing through his inky body once more.

\----------

_ “Joey said it went well. Do you think it went well?” _

_ Allison sat at his side, her worries worn on her sleeve. The new cartoon had just gone out starring her as Alice Angel. The new voice might have been what had drawn a few newcomers. On top of the fact that Allison had already had a bit of a following before deciding to voice act. So some of her old fans might have contributed to the increase in sales as well. But the small increase wasn’t enough. Sammy knew that. Tickets still weren’t being sold like they used to. And if Grant’s constant rushing about and worried mumbling was anything to go by, the situation was only growing worse. _

_ But Sammy didn’t have the heart to say all of that out loud to their newcomer. Better to give Allison a few months of new job bliss before breaking the news that she was working for a slowly failing company. But at least when it did shut down, Allison would have an actual career to fall back onto. Voice acting was just a side gig for her after all. A name for Joey to bring in to try and garner up more tickets. She had a future, unlike the rest of them. _

_ Sure, Sammy had a few awards under his belt. But having worked on music for a cartoon for so long hadn’t won him any favors. Most anyone else in the industry would turn their noses up at him and reject his work without even listening to it. Cartoons and the music that went with them were child's play to them. Nothing more than filler for a  _ mindless _ audience. And on some level Sammy would have to agree. But he hated the fact that working on such things prevented him from moving to anything else music wise in the industry. Perhaps if the theater down the street was desperate enough… _

_ “It went well enough.” He finally responded with a sigh, shuffling discarded music sheets back into place. The band could at least learn to clean up after themselves after practice. They might have to have a chat about that soon.  _

_ “When do you think we can record the next set of lines?” Allison was eager, despite such a role being beneath her status. But she claimed it was fun to loan her voice rather than the entirety of her to a project. Said it was a nice change of pace to be someone truly so different from herself. Pfft, actors. The sort of stuff that came from their mouths was laughable. _

_ “Whenever the animation department finishes their work and the writers stop making changes to the script. So probably in a month.” He looked to the other and noticed the frown on her face. What? Did she think they’d be recording every week? It didn’t work like that. Characters like Boris the Wolf and Alice Angel were meant for support and so rarely got their own starring role. Bendy was their headliner - and he didn’t have a voice at all! _

_ “Oh...I just thought…” _

_ Sammy held up his hand “Joey probably just wants to see how people take to this new cartoon before doing another solo Alice Angel cartoon. Making these things takes time, you know. It isn’t like your big budget movies where filming goes on for weeks.” _

_ “O-oh!” Allison perked up at that “I suppose you’re right. This is still all so new to me.” Her smile returned, though it wasn’t as vibrant as before “You should come out with all of us to celebrate tonight!” _

_ “Celebrate?” Sammy questioned “Celebrate what exactly?” _

_ “My being here! Oh, don’t give me that look. It wasn’t my idea! That janitor was the one who suggested it. He said the release of the new cartoon and having a fresh face might brighten the mood around here.” _

_ Sammy rolled his eyes at that. Of course Wally had suggested such a thing. The man was clueless as to the reality of what was going on in the studio. But others surely weren’t. They may go out for a few drinks and have a few laughs. But most of them had to know that once the little party was over, reality would set back in. And that come the next morning they would all be heading back to a studio that led to dead end jobs. _

_ “I think I’ll pass. I have no desire to deal with a drunk Wally again.” _

_ “Seriously? I can’t convince you to come? I guess I blew all my luck by just getting Thomas to agree.” _

_ Now  _ **_THAT_ ** _ was a surprise. Sammy turning to the woman with a slight quirk of his brows “Thomas? You mean Thomas  _ **_CONNOR?_ ** _ ” Out of everyone there, how in God’s name had she gotten that grump of an engineer to agree to go out for drinks?  _

_ “The very same one!” Allison chuckled, coming to stand from her seat and collect her coat from the back of it. It was nearly eighty degrees outside, he couldn’t understand why she wore that thing even in the hottest of weather and never managed to break a sweat “I just need one more grouch to come with us to complete the set.” _

_ She gave him a friendly elbow to the ribs. Sammy simply shook his head and backed away. Collecting up the last few music sheets left behind by the band members “I think you’ll have your fill tonight. Try not to let the lot of them get too drunk. Do remember they all have work tomorrow.” _

_ “Worth a shot.” Allison gave a shrug and a wink. Turning on her heels to head toward the door “And I make not a single promise.” _

\----------

Allison. The name of the other angel. The one the vassal had claimed to be a follower. Was the woman he just saw and the angel he’d met...one and the same? It wasn’t too far fetched to believe. So many of them had succumbed to the ink. So many of them had become deformed. Their bodies remade entirely into whatever the ink pumped through the studio required.

So who was he to doubt that the woman in his memories and the angel were the same person? That they might have once been...friends? Something akin to it. Had that been why the two had so easily been able to converse when left alone in the safe house? Why conversation had just...come so naturally to them both. Because they had done it so frequently in the past, when they were still human. When they weren’t just beings of ink.

“Her?  **_HER?_ ** You remember her before me?”

The rage of the  _ other  _ angel’s voice cut through his thoughts. Flinching as the woman latched onto his neck rather than his chin. If he had a need to breath, it might have been a problem. But for a creature of ink it only served to apply an uncomfortable sort of pressure down upon his throat. Had he been mumbling just like before? Had he said the name  _ Allison _ out loud? 

“You remember that role stealing...that...that tramp...you remember  **HER?** ”

“Barely.” He responded. It was only one memory. One that only gave him a name, a face and a vague idea of what sort of relationship they may have had. But why did that make the twisted Alice so angry? Did the grudge the angels held for one another extend from before they were taken by the ink? In their past lives were they enemies too?

The answer was obvious, judging by the angel’s anger over him recalling Allison and not her. Her grip upon his neck tightening before she let go and turned away. Her shoulders were shaking, but the prophet didn’t believe her to be crying. No doubt that was her trying to contain her fury. Her tense posture was evident of that. But a moment later the angel was taking a few deep breaths. Trying to calm herself down before her attention came back onto the prophet.

“It’s a process. I just have to keep telling myself that it is. After all, I didn’t remember all the  _ important _ things right away either.” He could tell she was more so talking to herself than to him. Though her eyes met his, it just didn’t feel like her words were directed at him. The angel mumbled something else under her breath, but the prophet could not make it out. He watched as the other approached that black box again. Finger hovering over the switch.

The room fell silent. But only for a few moments.

“Not going to beg for me this time?” Now she was talking to him. Her scowl twitching slightly before becoming a slight grin. Did she take pleasure in his pain? No doubt she did. She seemed to take pleasure in  **ALL** of their misfortunes. Seeming to believe she was the only one who deserved happiness and an escape from the ink and  _ imperfections _ they had all become.

“What is the point of begging?” The prophet asked. His voice was hoarse. His throat felt...dry? An odd feeling when he was made of nothing more than a liquid “You will not listen. And I...I will not give you the satisfaction of hearing me beg. I do not bow to  _ angels _ .”

Her grin fell almost immediately. Her free hand clenching into a fist. The angel only spoke a few words before flipping that blasted switch again “No. But you do scream for them.”

\----------

_ “Just come home. Please. I’ll even drive you there so you don’t have to.” _

_ Sammy was hardly paying attention to his brother’s words. Instead focusing on the people that were passing by the small cafe. The pair sat outside despite how cold it was becoming. The waitress had offered them a table inside, but his brother, his damned brother, had wanted to speak to him without others eavesdropping. Thus, there they were. Sitting outside in the nearly freezing cold. People that passed by were too busy with their own affairs to care about what some schmucks sitting at a cafe were talking about. _

_ “Sammy.  _ **_SAMMY!_ ** _ Are you even listening to me?” _

_ He jumped when his brother slammed his fist down on the table. Their coffee cups nearly toppled over from the force. Sammy scowled as he came to look at the other “Yes. I am listening. It doesn’t mean I have to respond.” _

_ “What is the matter with you?” Aaron asked with disgust in his voice “I’m here trying to have a heart to heart with you and you act as if you couldn’t care less!” _

_ Probably because he had more important things to worry about. Normally he worked through his lunch breaks and yet there he was. Having left the studio just to come have a thirty minute long chat and cup of coffee with his brother. A brother he hadn’t spoken to in what...a year? Maybe two? It was so hard to keep track nowadays. _

_ But losing contact with his brother wasn’t of concern. No, what  _ **_DID_ ** _ concern him is what Joey would think. Surely his boss knew by now that Sammy had left the studio for his break. And surely the man had become suspicious of his music director’s change in routine. Such thoughts filled Sammy with anxiety. Leaving him to wonder if he’d be called into Joey’s office as soon as he walked through the studio doors. _

_ “Pa’s dying.” Aaron uttered. _

_ “Pa has been dying.” Sammy responded with a roll of his eyes. That only made his brother angrier. _

_ “And what? That means nothing to you? I know you and Pa didn’t see eye to eye at times but-” _

_ “No, not seeing eye to eye is not agreeing what to have for breakfast or...or not agreeing on how to clean out the stables. It’s not telling your own damn son that what he wants to do with his life is meaningless. It’s not breaking your own son’s banjo into pieces of wood and telling him to clean it up!” _

_ Aaron’s mouth snapped shut at that. Leaning back in his chair in a defeated manner. Did he think Sammy had just forgotten about those times? Did he think he’d just let them slide just because their father was dying? Someone’s sins and poor decisions couldn’t be forgotten just because they were going to be buried six feet under soon.  _

_ The brothers sat in silence for what felt like hours. Aaron staring into his coffee cup. Sammy watching others pass by and go about their lives. Businessmen mumbling to themselves about low numbers or great successes. Men and women alike rushing off either late to their jobs or to try and catch the train. The hustle and bustle of New York. Sammy used to hate it, what with coming from the usual  _ slow _ moving rural life. But now...now he found more peace in it. Thinking about the farm nowadays just brought about bad memories. But, if he were being honest, he didn’t have many good memories of New York either. Mainly of the one particular place. _

_ “Look,” Aaron finally spoke up with a sigh “You’re right. That was...bad phrasing. You don’t have to forgive Pa for what he said. You don’t even have to believe me when I tell you that he is sorry for...for all that happened.” _

_ Sammy’s scowl morphed into a genuine frown. His Pa was...sorry? _

_ “And if you really don’t want to come see him, you don’t have to see him. You don’t even have to come by for him. But...but just do it for Ma. At least come see her. Give her some comfort. She’s already losing Pa. She doesn’t want to completely lose you.” _

_ Damn it. The old Lawrence guilt trip. Aaron had definitely learned that well from their mother. But...Ma. God, thinking of her again. It had hurt most not to see her for as long as he had. To not return any calls she’d made or the letters that remained unopened in his apartment. She was the one who had introduced him to music. Who had encouraged him. And because of that, he felt guilty for almost cutting her out of his life. But at the same time, she hadn’t done anything when his father smashed his banjo. Stood idle when her own husband had berated her own son. It wasn’t something he could just entirely forgive, even though he knew there hadn’t been much she could have done in his defense. _

_ “And plus...I haven’t been hearing good things about that studio you work for.” _

_ Sammy snapped out of his thoughts at that. A mildly annoyed look upon his face as he glanced at his brother “Oh? And what exactly have you heard?” _

_ Aaron’s frown seemed to grow. Now he just looked to be pitying his younger brother “Even out in the farmlands, we get news. I’ve read a few papers and heard some of the gossip from a few families that come to sell their produce in the city. That studio is failing. That guy you work for, he’s just milking it until that place is shut down by those big wig bankers.” _

_ “Since when did you start listening to the words of brainless journalists? You know they’ll make up anything to sell papers. Especially in this day and age.” _

_ “What about the people from our hometown? The ones who have been here and heard what people have to say about that studio. Are they brainless too?” _

_ “Yes.” Sammy responded with a scowl. Gossiping New Yorkers that was all it was. So many people in that city doubted the studios work. Thought it was just a waste of space and could be replaced by something far better. A new theater. One of those expanding supermarkets. A damn army recruitment center.  _ **_ALL_ ** _ sorts of companies and businessmen alike had tried to buy the studio out. Had tried to convince Joey Drew that they were his best bet about getting away with some money. _

_ And at the beginning, Sammy had agreed. Selling the studio off was for the benefit of everyone there. They could all get a final paycheck. All move on to something else, hopefully find other jobs. But now...now he couldn’t afford to truly voice his opinion on the matter. Just thinking about what Joey would do if he even heard about Sammy discussing such things with someone else. It was enough to make his anxiety spike. So much so that he was pulling out a small flask from his trouser pocket and downing some of the contents immediately. He didn’t get to finish off all that he had though. Aaron reached out and pulled the flask away from his mouth. Snatching the thing right up and looking it over. _

_ “Seriously?” The other asked with a scowl of his own “Drinking to escape the facts now? What sort of man did this place turn you into?” He sniffed the contents of the flask and raised a brow a moment later “This doesn’t smell like alcohol-” _

_ Sammy didn’t let him finish his thoughts. He quickly shot his hand out and took the flask back. Screwing back on the cap before shoving the object into his trouser pocket. He needed to get back to the studio. He’d extended his break long enough and it had brought upon more stress than any sort of relaxation. _

_ Not that his breaks ever did bring him a moment of reprieve. _

_ “If I agree to come back to the house to see Ma, will you stop trying to call me every hour? It doesn't look good that personal calls keep coming through to the studio.” _

_ “Well if I could reach your home phone I wouldn’t have had to call the studio.” _

_ Sammy finally came to stand, letting out a huff as he did so. He’d forgotten that he’d disconnected his phone about...two weeks ago? Maybe it was longer than that. But he’d been getting so many prank calls as of late. At least he’d thought they were prank calls. An odd whispering voice always on the other end. Calling him toward… _

_ No. No he had to get out of his own head. Even going about shaking it to clear the thoughts away. Aaron must have sensed his distress as he got up and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. _

_ “Sammy. I don’t know what’s going on in that studio. I just know that ever since you started at that place it’s been nothing but trouble.” _

_ “You don’t know anything,” He shrugged Aaron’s hand off. He needed to get back. He really did “I’ll come by this weekend, keep Pa alive until then.” _

_ “Sammy-” _

_ “And  _ **_DON’T_ ** _ call the studio again.” _

_ He didn’t give his brother even a second to respond. Storming away from the cafe, even going so far as to shove some people out of his way. They scoffed and yelled at him. He could have sworn he even heard Aaron’s voice shouting after him. But he ignored it all. Once again pulling that flask out from his pocket and downing what remained. _

_ Ink always did taste better when chilled. _

\----------

“How much farther?”

“Not much more. But we need to be quiet, her or any of those followers she’s gained could hear us.”

“I know I just...we need to get there before she does something to Sammy.”

\----------

He wasn’t sure what to feel now. A part of him was...enjoying the fact he could remember some parts of himself. He knew that made him a sinner. He knew he shouldn’t be happy to be given memories. Especially when the  _ gift _ of them came from the angel and not the ink demon. But a part of him couldn’t help himself. To err is ink being. To fall into the trap of wanting to see more of who he once was. Who in his old flock wouldn’t be overjoyed to see their past selves and those they once knew? 

Of course he should be stronger than his sheep. He shouldn’t fall for such things. But again, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see more. He wanted to know if he ever saw his father or mother again. Had they reconciled their differences? Had Aaron convinced him of that? Also why had he been drinking ink? Why...why could he now remember some _Joey Drew_? Or at least vaguely remember him. It was the name he’d seen once on the upper levels of the studio where the ink machine had once been housed. On an old, dead sign. And it was a name the vassal had spoken of. The name of which some office belonged to.

Joey Drew.  _ Joey Drew _ . He could not recall a face and yet the name made him feel uneasy. It gave him anxiety, similar to what it had done in those memories. Made him...terrified. But why? What could one man do to make him so afraid? The only time he’d ever felt such fear grip him was when...when he’d been face to face with the ink demon.

Upon opening his eyes he was surprised that the angel wasn’t there upon him. No doubt she would be angry that yet again he hadn’t been able to recall her or any  _ Susie Campbell _ . Because no doubt it was that name and the person that held it that she wanted him to remember. The name that made him feel such guilt from time to time. Guilt he, for the life of him, could not explain.

“I thought we could have had something back then, you know?”

Her voice broke the silence in the room. The prophet did not find himself tensing up as he had before. Instead simply listening to the woman speak. Her voice coming from behind him. When she had walked away? Perhaps while he was trying to recall some  _ Drew _ character and was lost in the flurry of his memories.

“Before everything was taken from me. From my Susie.”

There was that name.

“We laughed. We spoke so often to one another. You called me almost every other day to discuss what sort of melody best fit my Alice. I was your muse and you…”

He thought he’d heard her sniffling. Thought he heard her choke back a sob. But that couldn’t be right. The angel held no empathy. She only found pleasure through the pain of others. She did not experience any sort of sadness or despair. She only cared for herself and making herself some  _ perfect _ being. Something that could be worshipped like the ink demon. And yet, for the briefest moments, he thought her to be…

The prophet snapped out of his thoughts when the angel suddenly entered his point of view. If she had been crying, he couldn’t tell. Her eye only held fury behind it. Her disfigured scowl only served to remind him of the hate she held towards him. Though again, he didn’t know why. Couldn’t understand. Because he didn’t remember. But...but he thought he might want to. To see what sins had further led him to be taken by the ink. To be...cast down like the rest of the studio and cursed to live in a nightmare day after day. Begging for repentance. Begging for a second chance.

What had he done to  **HER?** What could he have done to so many people? What had been the turning point for him to end up where he was now?

“I was everything to you. And you were everything to me. We made  _ Alice Angel _ the star she was and then you...you just let them replace me. Replace my Susie.”

He frowned and felt something akin to pity for her “I don’t know who you are talking about. I don’t remember a Susie.” And he wasn’t saying it to mock her. He wasn’t trying to draw further ire from her. He was just being  **HONEST** . He wanted to remember, but he couldn’t. All the memories that came to him. They were helpful and welcomed, despite how sad some of them could be, but it wasn’t what the angel wanted him to remember. The people in them weren’t **WHO** she wanted him to remember.

“You need to,” She uttered, her anger that had marred her face before had vanished. Her expression now almost...desperate. As if behind that one eye and twisted face, she were pleading with him. As if he could control what her little  _ procedure _ allowed him to remember. As if he had any choice in the matter. If he did, he’d make himself recall her. Recall who was behind the name  _ Susie _ and just why such a name brought him such feelings of guilt “You  **NEED** to remember her.”

The angel stepped away from him now. He couldn’t even respond before that little switch was flipped for the fourth time.

\----------

_ “Can we talk?” _

_ He stood in the doorway to Joey’s office. The hesitation was clear in his tone, but he had to push forward. Sammy hadn’t been thinking his decision over lightly. After his talk with his brother a few days ago it had just...got him thinking. He’d been debating with himself more than he’d been writing music. And the thoughts only followed him when he went home. Sitting there in silence and only having his own thoughts to listen to. He couldn’t leave the phone on, he’d just get those  _ prank calls _ again. But he couldn’t even listen to the radio to keep him preoccupied either. That voice he’d hear over the phone...it was in the radio too. Drowning out the static or any late night shows. Just whispering to him. Constantly. It had gotten so bad he felt as if he were hearing it in his dreams now too. Or rather his nightmares. _

_ Aaron was right. About everything. All of the gossip wasn’t gossip. The papers weren’t wrong. The studio was falling and there was just...so much more going wrong. Sammy knew that for a fact. He knew of what the ink running through the pipes could do. Knew about it whispered to him like the voice on the phone and radio. Knew it spoke to others as well. How it affected both him and them. The ink was changing everything. That blasted machine was making a mess of the place. _

_ He had to get out of there. He  _ **_HAD_ ** _ to. Even if it meant meeting a certain other fate. But at least it would free him from the studio. Any place was better than there. _

_ “What is it, Samuel? We’re already on a tight deadline and if I recall, you haven’t even given the band new sheet music to play. We don’t have time to be chitchatting.” _

_ Sammy walked further into the room and sat down in front of Joey’s desk. His boss couldn’t even spare him a glance as he went about scribbling down something on the mirage of papers in front of him. The music director felt his heart drop as he took notice of the many different types of pentagrams and sketches of some malformed Bendy. The same  _ creature _ that had plagued his own nightmares as of late. The same  _ creature _ that had filled up his last set of sheet music papers. _

_ “I quit.” _

_ He came right out and said it. He had to force his eyes away from the papers and stare down Joey Drew. No more feeling anxious or terrified around the man that had ruined his life. That had...that had made him do things that no one should ever have to live through. To suffer through. No more bowing down to his boss and his cartoons like they were some gods. _

_ “Excuse me?” Joey placed his pencil down and looked to Sammy with the most quizzical look. But Sammy knew better. Behind that look was one of anger. Of frustration.  _

_ “I said I quit. I’m...I’m done.” He cleared his throat before he continued on “And you can’t convince me to stay. You can’t...you can’t hold what happened to Norman over me anymore.” He stood up from his seat, he knew being there for too long would cause him to fold. Joey Drew just had that sort of effect on people. Allow him to talk for long and he’d have them eating out of the palm of his hand “I’d ask that you at least give me a day before you call the police and tell them about Norman. Or even just a few hours. Just enough to say goodbye to my family.” _

_ “Now Samuel...Sammy. Don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty here?” Joey stood up from his own seat and quickly rounded his desk. Coming to stand before his music director. Trying to put on a smile even though it wasn’t difficult to tell he was growing angrier by the second. Sammy had worked there long enough to know when his boss was just putting on a  _ show _. _

_ “Calling the cops, ha! They’d both have us in the cell house for what happened to Norman. And after I gave his family such a convincing story about what happened to him. It wouldn’t look good now to come out and tell them what really happened now would it?” _

_ He slapped a hand to Sammy’s back, letting out a soft chuckle as he did so. Sammy didn’t return the gesture. He didn’t find anything funny about the situation either. So instead he just shook his head and stepped forward and made his way for the office door “Call them, don’t call them. I don’t care. I’ve already cleared my office and am leaving.” _

_ “And what about the ink?” Joey questioned, his tone dropping the slight jovial edge it had before. Ah, there was the Mister Drew he knew. _

_ “What about it?” Sammy asked as he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. _

_ “When you get the cravings for it. What will you do? We both saw what a lack of it had done to Ms. Lambert. And such a shame that was. Do you want that to happen to you too?” _

_ Sammy frowned at that. He tried to forget about Abby. Tried to forget about watching her wither away without ink. Ink that Joey himself had  _ **_REFUSED_ ** _ to give her. All because he hadn’t needed her anymore. All because she’d found out too much. Just like Sammy. She hadn’t been able to get away. But he had to. He couldn’t let Joey win nor hold the ink over him. Even if it meant becoming a puddle in a few weeks without it, at least he’d have some time to be free of the studio. _

_ “I’ll figure it out. But at least I won’t be here.” _

_ Sammy tried to walk away again, but a moment later he was pulled back as Joey latched onto his arm. For an aging and ailing man, his boss had quite the grip. In his haste to stop Sammy, he hadn’t even grabbed hold of his cane. Now the music director had to wonder if grabbing him wasn’t just only to stop him - but to prevent Joey from toppling over as well. _

_ “I see I can’t stop you.” The old man chuckled again. Sammy couldn’t help but to notice how tired the other looked now. A few beads of sweat rolling down Joey’s face. Breathing a little heavier than usual. Despite all the fake smiles and businessman air Joey tried to put on - it all wasn’t enough to prove who Mister Drew really was.  _

_ A man with a failing company and nothing and no one to go back to. A man whose health was failing him and wouldn’t have the funds to cover any medical bills, or any at all soon enough. A man who was about to go bankrupt and at most just have the ink that stained the studio walls. _

_ “But...at least let me show you something before you go. Something that I had...aha...that I had hoped would bring this studio back to life. And who knows! Maybe it still could.” _

_ Sammy quirked a brow, he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to hear anything else Joey had to say. But it almost felt as if he didn’t have a choice. His now former boss was already trying to pull him along. And despite looking winded, the old man didn’t seem to have any trouble with his steps nor with pulling Sammy. The music director eventually let out a sigh and went against his better judgement. Just let the old man show him what he needed to and then he could go. _

_ And besides, perhaps if he humored Joey just the slightest bit longer, the other really wouldn’t call the police. It would be nice not to live in a jail cell like he originally thought he was going to be by the end of the night. _

_ “The ink. I think I let it consume my studio, Sammy. I let the machine take it’s hold on me, all because I hoped to bring the characters that I helped to create to life.” It was best to let Joey ramble, for now at least. Sammy was only half listening as he allowed the other to lead him down the hall. Away from the offices and eventually towards the areas that had been designated for GENT employees - aka Thomas.  _

_ “It took so many from us, didn’t it? Carol, from accounting not the one that does the writing. Norman. Lambert. That erm...that one kid. What was his name?” _

_ “Buddy. It was Buddy.” From the art department. Did Joey really have no shame? Let some kid die by the ink and then just forget his name. It made Sammy scowl. But also made him feel guilty seeing as he helped cover it up and played along as if nothing happened. _

_ “Ah, yes! Good people. Wonderful employees. Such wasted talent. But at least the ink has them now. And it’s using their combined talents for what I have planned next.” _

_ Now he was even more confused. Sammy finally dug in his heels to bring the both of them to a halt. But it didn’t seem to matter, Joey just smiled at him, and Sammy knew he was exactly where the other wanted him to be. He couldn’t help the feeling of dread that bubbled up in the pit of his stomach. He tried to yank his arm out of Joey’s grip, but the old man just tightened his hold and continued to speak. _

_ “It even took Susie.” _

_ That’s when Sammy froze on the spot. He stopped trying to pull away. He felt every muscle in him tense and he looked to Joey with widened eyes. Somehow it was all so  _ **_FUNNY_ ** _ to his former boss - seeing as Joey started to laugh in his face “S-Susie?” He uttered, soon trying to speak up above the other’s laughter “She went back home...she didn’t...she never…” _

_ “Oh the things I didn’t tell you,” Joey shook his head, his laughter slowly winding down “I had to keep some secrets, Samuel. But don’t look so glum! You can join her soon, I can’t let talent like yours just slip through my fingers after all. The show must go on and to do that - it needs it’s music.” _

_ The other pulled on Sammy’s arm and brought him closer. The music director lost his footing as Joey finally released him and sent him falling against a door. Sammy glanced up at the plaque on the door. The old, nearly rusted thing that one could just barely make out the name of.  _

_ Thomas Connor’s office. _

_ “Tommy and I have so many things planned! Well...he doesn’t know about most of them. But I’m getting so close, Samuel.  _ **_SO CLOSE!_ ** _ But to get to the end goal some sacrifices have to be made. You understand, I’m sure you do. You helped with some of them after all.” _

_ “You’re a mad man!” He shouted, turning to face the other, back to the door “I don’t know what you did to Susie…” Susie...God. He’d let her down so much already. But he hadn’t ever wanted...never thought Joey would…“What  _ **_DID_ ** _ you do to Susie?” _

_ “The life I’m trying to create. I’m sure you understand that all life, from us to the bugs we step on. All of them have something that makes them  _ **_THEM_ ** _ don’t they? Religions go on about souls and in some cases they are right! We all need a soul to be who we are. To be...something. Wouldn’t you agree, Samuel?” _

_ He didn’t understand. Souls? Life? What did any of that have to do with what happened to Susie? What even did the  _ **_INK_ ** _ have to do with what happened to Susie? Had the old man addicted her to it like he had with Sammy and Lambert? Like with no doubt countless others in the studio that Sammy just didn’t know about. It was all rambling to him! _

_ “Get out of my way, Joey.” He wasn’t about to let some old man block his way out “Or just tell me what happened to Susie! Stop talking...nonsense and just tell me!” _

_ Mister Drew smiled at him.  _ **_SMILED_ ** _. “There is no Susie anymore. Just some slug. A slug that may one day emerge as an angel. Wouldn’t that be something, Samuel?” _

_ That was the last straw. Sammy charged forward now, ready to knock Joey out of his way. He himself may be gaining in years, but the other was far older. And at that, crippled. One good shove would send the other spiraling to the floor and give Sammy his chance to take his leave. At least...that was the plan. But despite what reality seemed to lay before him - it wasn’t going to happen. _

_ As soon as he closed in on Joey, the old man raised his arms and gave Sammy a hearty shove back towards the door. It came as a surprise, seeing as someone of Joey’s age and declining health  _ **_SHOULDN’T_ ** _ have had the strength to send Sammy toppling back. Slamming against the office door and sending it off its hinges. The wind was practically knocked out of him as he fell backwards on top of the now broken door. The office he’d fallen into was dark, incredibly so. The only light that managed to get inside was what came from the hallway. Just enough to illuminate the entrance.  _

_ Sammy only registered that he needed to get up when he heard the rattling of a gate. Quickly coming to a sitting position, he looked to the entrance way. A doorsized grating now encased the opening. Since when had Thomas’ office had  _ **_THAT?_ ** _ Why hadn’t Sammy even noticed it when they’d first gotten there? He quickly surged to his feet and tried to open the grating, but it didn’t budge. Joey simply smirked as he waggled a key from the other side. Only then did Sammy notice the lock that held two chains together to keep the grating closed. One chain attached to the wall and the other to the grating.  _

_ “Do you think locking me in an office is going to prevent me from leaving? You can’t just stow someone away inside the studio!” He shouted. _

_ “Well it seemed to work for Lambert.” Joey shrugged “Besides, you won’t be in there for long. Remember Samuel, I told you, I can’t just let talent like yours slip away.” _

_ Sammy thought he heard wooden boards creaking behind him, but elected to ignore it. The building was old, it was just the wind making it rattle. There was nothing in that office with him.  _ **_NOTHING_ ** _. He couldn’t let such trivial sounds distract him. He needed to get out of there, he couldn’t turn his back to Joey. _

_ “Like I was saying before, life needs a soul to make it complete. Even monsters I’m sure could become something more if they just had that...piece of them that made them, well, more like us!” There was that creaking again, and it seemed to be getting louder and closer. Sammy just kept trying to ignore it, instead shaking the grating and trying to pull it off its own hinges or whatever kept it in place. But the thing wouldn’t budge.  _

_ “And I do think it would be rather humorous for the man who hates these cartoons the most to be the one to give his soul to the  _ **_STAR_ ** _ of the show.” _

_ Sammy’s spine straightened and his whole body became tense again as something cold fell onto the back of his shirt. He immediately whipped himself around and his eyes grew wide as they followed the large thing that towered over him. And soon his eyes met a grin that he was all too familiar with. _

_ “ _ **_WHAT IS THAT?_ ** _ ” He shouted as he slammed himself against the grating behind him, trying to create as much distance from himself and the  _ monster _ as he could. The thing only drew nearer, moving its head like some curious dog. And what he assumed was ink was dripping off its body in waves and falling to the floor to create puddles. It  _ **_HAD_ ** _ to be ink. It reeked of it. Enough so that it was starting to become overwhelming and brought upon an instant headache. _

_ “What? Now, Samuel, don’t you mean  _ who _? How can you not recognize our very own Bendy?” Despite the jovial tone the other tried to put on, it was clear there was some disgust behind his words. As if he couldn’t believe he was referring to the mass of ink as the  _ popular _ cartoon character. And frankly, Sammy couldn’t believe it either. That was  _ **_NOT_ ** _ Bendy. That was not the cartoon he’d been spending years of his life writing stupid jingles for. _

_ “As you can see he’s not, ah, in the best shape. But I aim to fix all of that. Soon he’ll be just like you and I! Well...more like me in a sense. Shame you won’t be around to witness it, but at least you can rest easy knowing your soul is being put to good use.” _

_ “Let me out of here!” Sammy shouted, finally turning back to the old man and pulling against the grate. It was like a desperate animal caught in a trap, thrashing against its cage so that it wouldn’t be captured. So that it wouldn’t become a head on someone’s wall “Joey! Open the door!” _

_ “I suppose Jack will have to write the lyrics and the beat now. Ugh, that won’t go over well. I may just have to do that myself.” Joey was talking to himself now, completely ignoring the screaming man that he was leaving behind. His back was already towards Sammy, he was already making his descent away from the office. _

_ “ _ **_JOEY!_ ** _ ” He called again, but his mouth snapped shut when a shadow fell over him and ink dripped down onto his face. _

\----------

He was thrashing and shaking more than usual. It had only been two minutes and he was...he was reacting in a way she hadn’t seen him from thus far. She watched as the leather straps strained against his movements. They’d have to be replaced, they wouldn’t hold him much longer. Maybe one more go around? But what if he didn’t remember her even still? Alice sighed in frustration before she flipped the switch on the black box. The volts of electricity coming to a dead stop.

Her  _ victim _ thrashed about for a bit longer. Body spasming and little ink bubbles popping. But eventually he fell limp against the restraints. He was still shaking, mumbling something under his breath. Multiple things in fact. He didn’t seem to shut up and for a moment Alice was hopeful. Had he finally come to remember her? She surged to his side and grasped at the sides of his face, shaking him and trying to listen to what he was uttering.

“What? Speak up! What did you remember?”

Alice was taken off guard as instead of words for a response - she got a loud  **SCREAM** . A pained one. One that caused her to let the other go and step back. Watching for a moment as Sammy started to thrash about again, as he kept screaming and started banged the back of his head against the table. Eventually, she had to step in. Scowling as she grasped the other’s head again and tried to get him to remain still.

“What are you doing? Stop it!  **STOP IT!** What did you see? Tell me, you-”

“What did I do?” His screams withered away and finally he spoke, and it was in the tone of a defeated man. A sort of tone that she had never heard him take up before. One laced with cracks and possibly on the verge of a sob “Oh God...what did I do?”

Alice continued to hold the sides of his face, but allowed him to slouch down against the table. Allowed him to take in what all had happened. But if he started screaming again - she’d slap him. She didn’t need his continuous shouting drawing the attention of the ink demon or that little band of  _ heroes _ he’d been traveling with. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of them, not when she was so close. 

“Norman...what did I do to Norman?” He finally looked up at her. The dents in his face that represented his eye sockets moved in a way that almost made him look saddened. “To all of them...what did I do?”

Her scowl was back instantly. She tightened her hold on his face before roughly releasing it. Turning her back to him as she took a few steps away. Alice wanted to pull at her hair. To let out her own screams. Why everyone but  **HER?** Why? “The projectionist? You didn’t...you didn’t even like him! How can you remember him and not...and not…”

“Susie.”

She tensed at her old name. The name that had been called by so many - coworkers and fans alike. Once spoken by  **_HIM_ ** . A name she hadn’t been referred to in so, so long. Not since she took up being Alice Angel. Because that was who she was in that cold, dark world now, right? The  _ perfect _ angel who she was meant to be. 

“Susie…” He said her name again “What did he do to you?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. Almost held a softened look to her face “You remember?”

“No.” He barely managed to wheeze out. Shaking his head as his own gaze fell from hers “Barely. I don’t...he did something to a Susie. To...is Susie you?”

Ah, he still didn’t completely remember. Figures. She couldn’t help but to give a melancholy smile as she turned away again. Fate really did continue to be so cruel to her didn’t it? It took away her favored role. Took away people she thought she could trust. Made her the villain of another story, and the one who stole from some lookalike angel pretending to be a  hero. She couldn’t even have the  _ pleasure _ of having anyone else to be miserable alongside her. Most everyone either remembered only bits and pieces or hardly nothing at all. Meanwhile she knew...so much. Could still picture the face she once had. That perfect face. Wait...was that her face or was it Alice’s?

Either way, it had been perfect.

“Do it again.”

Alice snapped her attention back to the other as he spoke. Eye widening at his words “What?”

“Again. Flip the switch.” Sammy inclined his head to the black box. Staring at it rather than her. 

She sighed and came closer to the table, shaking her head as a signal that she wasn’t just going to turn the switch to  _ on _ at his request. Mainly because she didn’t think it would do either of them any good. It was clear to her that Sammy was going to need more thick ink injected into him soon. His own ink was dripping off his body in waves and a large puddle had formed on the floor. And if he wasn’t made more solid soon, he’d be able to slip through the restraints. Speaking of those, she should replace them as well. 

“Not yet. I need to-”

She didn’t have time to finish as Sammy ripped the restraint holding down his right wrist from the table. Before she could react, his hand was latched onto her left arm. If she wasn’t made of such solid ink herself, he would have no doubt been digging rents into her. 

“Flip. The. Switch.”

He released her arm immediately after he spoke. Letting his own fall to his side to dangle there. Alice couldn’t help but to eye him up and down. Not long ago he was begging her not to give him his memories back, that he didn’t want  **HER** to give them to him. And now? Well it certainly was an immense change. Was some of the old Sammy starting to peek through? The  **ACTUAL** Sammy?

She remained silent as she backed away and flipped the switch. She didn’t stick around to watch as the other started to thrash against the table as the electricity went through the wires and to the rods and right into the other’s ink. For something that she had moments ago found enjoyment watching, now it just made her sick. Scowling as she made her way to a separate room that conjoined with that one. Closing the door behind her before falling onto the lone, ripped up couch that made up her little  _ safe house _ .

The ink that ran through the pipes above her wasn’t enough to drown out Sammy from the other room. She could still hear his occasional screams and banging against the table. Alice placed her hand over her eyes and sighed.

\----------

_ Susie waited outside the studio for him. Waited until closing time. She couldn’t show her face in there again, not after what had happened. All those looks of pity people had given her. They had tried to be kind but she felt nothing but anger towards them all. Especially  _ **_HIM_ ** _. After all they had been through and talked about, how could he have been so cruel to her? How could he have just let her storm towards Joey’s office and look like an utter fool? _

_ What must they all be saying about her in there? How much were they all making fun of her while praising that tramp Allison?  _

_ “Sammy!” She called out when she finally saw him coming out. Grateful that he always came out the backdoor rather than the front. The pair locked eyes before he quickly turned away and tried to hustle towards his car. Susie refused to let him get far, racing toward him and latching onto his arm “Sammy! Look at me!” _

_ “Please tell me you haven’t been waiting out here all day.” He huffed, finally looking down at her. He didn’t even have the decency to look sympathetic.  _

_ “What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like I have a job anymore to take up my time.” She scowled at him and felt the tears that pricked at the sides of her eyes. _

_ “Then start looking for one,” He tried to pull away from her, but her nails dug in deep “What do you want from me, Susie? It’s over. You’ve been shit canned, get over it.” _

_ “Oh, I’m sure you’d feel the same way if Joey told you you were  _ **_PERFECT_ ** _ for a role and then took it from you.” _

_ “Well he had wanted me to voice Bendy for awhile-” _

_ “Don’t make a joke out of this!” She practically screamed in his face. Foot stomping on the ground in frustration. She didn’t care if it made her look like a child. She was upset! He wasn’t taking her seriously! He was acting like she was one of his  _ stooges _ back in the band room who didn’t know what they were doing. _

_ “You knew Alice was made for me. Made to be  _ **_MY_ ** _ role. Joey...Joey told me it was time for a change. But he doesn’t get it. And he wouldn’t listen to me, told me I was being hysterical.” _

_ “And how was he wrong about that?” _

_ “How can you be so cruel?” Susie asked, tears finally starting to roll down her cheeks “Can’t you say anything?  _ **_DO_ ** _ anything to get me my job back? Sammy, please. You can’t just let them do this to me.” _

_ “How much sway do you think I have in there?” He asked “Drew barely listens to me about hiring a new janitor. You think he cares what I have to say about you? I don’t even have anything to say!” _

_ Her heart seemed to crack a bit at his words. Adding to the many breaks it had already begun to endure. Her hold on him lessened, and Sammy took that chance to pull away. Susie just let him, her arm falling to her side. Shoulders slouched in a defeated manner. _

_ “But we-” _

_ “There is no  _ **_WE_ ** _ , Susie! There never was! This is just a job! They come and go! For the last time, get over it and start looking in the classifieds. Maybe you can find some fame as a hotel singer. But just leave me alone.” _

_ He turned his back to her, and she let him. Stood in the middle of the parking lot and watched as Sammy got into his car and drove away. He didn’t even spare her a single glance as he did so. During that whole conversation, he hadn’t even apologized for earlier. He just...walked away. _

_ It was probably in that moment that Susie had decided she’d never forgive him. _

\----------

She should go back in there. Susie knew she should. But instead she just eyed the ceiling and tried to let her thoughts carry her away. Tried to ignore the screaming and pounding in the next room over. She  **SHOULD** go back in there, she had to. She’d already let Sammy stew with the electricity for longer than usual. And in his already broken state, if she didn’t turn the box off soon, he really would just be an entire puddle on the floor.

She did not want to clean that up. Nor did she even want Sammy to be a puddle on the floor. So with a sigh, Susie pushed herself up off the couch. Stretching out her back before making her way to the door. But her hand stopped just short of it. She took a moment, then two. Simply just listening and was perplexed when she heard nothing at all. No screams. No thrashing. Not even whimpers or wheezes. She should have heard something. 

Backing up, Susie glanced around her little safe room. She made quick work of going to the vanity table and swiping one of her spare knives off from it. She had been too caught up in her memories and the  _ hope _ that Sammy was starting to remember. Had he broken all of his restraints now? Was he lying in wait to attack her for what she’d just put him through? Susie wasn’t taking a chance. And as much as she wanted to keep the little worm in her clutches for a bit longer, she wouldn’t hesitate to send him back to the well of voices if he attacked.

The angel neared the door and slowly began to open it, wincing as it made a creaking noise that seemed just louder than usual. She opened it just enough to peek into the next room, glimpsing at her work table to find there was no Sammy there anymore. The rods that had been inserted into his head now laid on the floor, covered in ink. Susie didn’t have time to even glance around and look for him as she heard something behind her. The sound of a vent grate hitting the floor.

She turned around just in time to see a pair of feet coming at her. Knocking her in the chest and sending her falling backwards out of her safe room. Susie managed to keep her knife in her hand even as she hit the floor. She quickly scrambled to her feet and glared at her attacker.  _ That damned tramp. _

**_ALLISON._ **

A sword was pointed at her now. A look of anger directed at her as well. Susie returned the sentiment, only instead of a sword it was a knife she pointed in the other’s direction. Just because the tramp had a bigger weapon, it didn’t mean she’d win the fight. Susie would not let that woman take her down again. Wouldn’t let her take what was Susie’s!

“Where is he?” She growled.

“Don’t worry about it. You aren’t touching him again.” Allison responded.

Neither of them made a move to advance on the other. A stalemate basically. Just glaring at one another. They only took their eyes off each other when a noise was made from the corner of the room. The sound of someone banging against one of Susie’s tables. That was when she took her chance. She quickly extended her leg outward and kicked the other angel right in the knee. While the little tramp tried to recover her balance, Susie turned and tried to sprint towards the direction of the recent sound. But ah, the other was quicker to recover apparently. A moment later Susie found herself on the ground, the other angel on top of her and trying to hold her down.

It took some work, but eventually she managed to turn herself around to be facing the other. Susie’s hand latched onto Allison’s ponytail and  **YANKED** . She wouldn’t lie, it did bring her some joy to hear the other scream. But she soon was joining in on the screaming as her own hair was pulled. Hmm, she couldn’t recall getting into a fight like that since high school.

“Get off of me!” Susie shouted.

“Only if you calm down and stop - ow - Susie, stop pulling my hair!”

“I’m not Susie. I’m  **_ALICE ANGEL!_ ** ”

“No you aren’t!” A different voice entered into their little shouting match. For a moment, the two stopped fighting. Inclining their heads toward a figure that stood to Susie’s left. Oh,  _ him _ . Henry. It was still amusing to see him in the same state as the rest of them. Made of ink and  _ stuck _ as a silly little cartoon character. But  _ oh _ , lucky him for being able to be so perfect. That wasn’t a luxury many of the rest of them had. 

“You’re Susie,” He spoke again with a sigh “Susie Campbell. You know this. You  **KNOW** you aren’t really Alice.”

She couldn’t help but to glare at him. How dare he talk to her like she was out of her mind! Of course she knew she was Susie, she was the  **ONLY** one there who had an inkling of who she used to be! But most of  _ Susie _ was dead. Replaced by an absolute angel.  _ Alice _ Angel. It was her role. It was who she was meant to be. Why else would the ink bring her back with the horns and halo? With the bow and dress. 

“I said get off of me!” She shouted again, turning her attention away from Henry and back to the fake angel that still held her down.

“Only if you promise not to try and skewer any of us if I do!” The other still looked distrustful, and she should. Susie had every intention of running her knife through that role stealing tramp’s heart once she was able! But ah, her prey didn’t know that. Susie had to remember, she herself had the talents of an actress. It was still embedded into her even if most of her was ink now. Play the  _ giving up _ card. Play the  _ I’ll listen to you _ game. Then go in for the kill.

“I promise.” She gave the other a smirk.

“No she doesn’t.” Another joined the conversation. Once again Susie’s eyes fell away from the fake angel and instead met the form of a practically  _ melting _ man. Sammy had definitely seen better days. That angry looking Boris was holding him up, clearly grimacing at the fact the  _ prophet’s _ ink was dripping onto him. Sammy himself just barely seemed to be holding it together. His overalls looked ready to slip from his shoulders and send the rest of the garment down onto the floor. 

“Get off of me. He needs ink.” Susie scowled up at the other angel. The same angel who seemed to hesitate momentarily, looking to Henry for guidance.  _ For the love of-  _ “ **NOW!** ” She shouted. Henry gave a nod at that and the fake angel was moving away. Jumping back just enough out of Susie’s reach. Fine, it didn’t matter. Susie ignored all of them as she got to her feet and made her way to her table on wheels. Shoving aside some things so she could grab the large syringe needle she had used on Sammy before. She could tell there was still a decent amount of thick ink inside. Enough to stop some of the dripping at least.

Susie turned on her heels and made her way towards the melting  _ prophet _ . The Boris that held him up glared at her, but she easily ignored it. Instead focusing her attention on Sammy as she plunged the needle into his chest and inserted the ink into him. At least he didn’t scream that time, only letting out a brief yelp before falling silent again. She didn’t have much to give him, but what she did seemed to help enough. At least for now. He might need more thick ink along the way, or just ink overall. 

She pulled the needle from the man’s chest and watched as he leaned away from the Boris and tried to steady himself. His overalls at least weren’t in danger of falling off of him now. But Sammy did nearly stumble and had to catch himself on a nearby table. Susie didn’t react but the other three in the room held up their arms, ready to catch the  _ prophet _ at a moments notice. Ah, how cute. Were they all friends now? Playing nice?

“I’m fine…” Sammy uttered, holding up one hand as he used the other to support himself on the tablet “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Henry asked. His question was met with a nod.

“What did you do to him?” The fake angel spoke up, glaring in Susie’s direction. But she didn’t get a chance to respond as Sammy spoke up once more. Shaking his head in the tramp’s direction.

“Allison, it’s fine. She just...just helped me to remember.”

“ _ Helped?  _ How is it helping when you can barely keep yourself together?” She argued. But Sammy still shook his head at her, as if it were nothing at all to have been electrocuted five times in a row. Even Susie had taken breaks when she’d gone about bringing back her own memories.

“It  **DID** help,” He uttered, finally deciding to look in Susie’s direction “I saw what you wanted me to see.”

“Sammy? Is that really you in there? The  **ACTUAL** you?” Ugh, of course Henry would interrupt. Stepping in front of Sammy and causing his attention to fall onto the small devil toon.

“Shut up,” Susie stepped forward and gave the tiny man a shove with her leg. Both Allison and her little  _ pet _ glared at her. But once again, Susie ignored it. Instead stepping further forward and grasping onto Sammy’s arms “What did you see?” She wanted to hear him say it. Just wanted that damn confirmation that she’d been waiting for.

“Susie...I’m sorry. I...I’m sorry. I should have listened to you that night. I shouldn’t have just walked away.”

Her grip on him tightened. He saw what he’d done. He’d finally seen it. Finally  **REMEMBERED** it. And yet, why didn’t that make her feel any different? There was barely any relief to be had. Absolutely no joy. She finally had someone else to share in the misery of remembering. And yet, she felt not a single thing over what he now knew.

“A sorry? That’s all I get?” She chuckled “Why was I expecting more? I don’t even know what else I was meant to expect.”

Because she really didn’t. Sure, he remembered. Sure, he apologized. Susie still couldn’t find it in her to just forgive him. To just...let go of all the anger and hatred she had held towards him. It didn’t work like that. She wished it did, but it didn’t. Because of his inability to care back then...it had set her up to walk into Joey’s bull shit. Into letting him convince her to take that step to become a  _ real _ angel. To become just another monster that lurked the halls of a dead studio.

Sammy had a part to play in what became of her. Of what no doubt became of them all, if his ramblings from earlier and screaming about what he’d done had been any indication. That couldn’t all be forgotten just because she forced him to remember and he  _ apologized _ . He had to live with all the mistakes and things he’d done, just like she had to! She may not feel satisfaction in him sharing her misery. But at least it served as some form of solace.

“Susie.  _ Susie _ . Let him go.”

She felt Henry tapping against her hip. It was only a moment later she noticed she was digging dents into Sammy’s already weakened ink form. As much as she didn’t want to, she released her hold on him. Stepping away and wrapping her arms around herself instead.

“Well?” She glanced in Allison’s direction. Not hesitating to send a glare the fake angel’s way. 

“Well what?” Allison asked with a scowl.

“Are you going to run your little sword through me again? Isn’t that what you’re waiting for? The  _ big bad _ angel is defeated once again. You saved your pathetic little friend. That’s the end of my story arc, isn’t it?” She heard the cracks in her voice but elected to ignore them. Hell, it wasn’t even  **HER** voice. It was Allison’s. Leave it to Joey to spite her even further by giving her the voice of the tramp that stole her role. 

“Oh, please. Be a little more melodramatic.” The fake angel huffed, putting her sword away with a roll of her eyes.

“Excuse me?” Susie gave a scowl of her own.

“No one is going to run anything through you. We didn’t come here to kill you.” Henry spoke up.

“You didn’t.” Allison muttered. Henry elected to ignore her as he continued to speak, his eyes focused solely on Susie.

“We just came here to get Sammy and...talk. Or try to at least. Susie, you are just as much of a victim as everyone else here.” He said it with such conviction that Susie actually sort of believed him. She didn’t know much about Henry, only saw him around the studio from time to time back in the day. Maybe had one full conversation and that was it. But she’d always heard he was an honest guy. That he wasn’t...wasn’t like Joey. Even when he left and people spoke of him, they always stressed how different he was from that  _ ass Joey Drew _ . How things would have been better if Henry had stayed or had been the boss.

Perhaps that was why she listened to him now. Believed that perhaps they really did just want to talk. Believed that she had been wronged just as much as the rest of them had. She’d nearly killed him with the elevator. Had taken that Boris from him and gutted it to attack him. And yet...when she looked at those toonified eyes, she still saw a man behind them. A man who was trying to reach out to her. Offer her  **HELP** . That was more than anyone else in that room had ever done for her. More than anyone in that whole studio had.

“Come with us and we-”

“ **_WHAT?_ ** ” Allison nearly shouted, looking down at Henry. Sporting a rather angered expression of her own. That Boris was at her side now. He looked just as disapproving, if not more so “I was fine with Sammy. He helped you when we didn’t,” She started “But...but  _ her _ . Henry, you’ve seen what she’s done. What she did to that Boris. What she’s done to Sammy.”

Allison waved her arms in the direction of the  _ prophet _ . The very same man that tried to utter yet again that he was fine. But Allison ignored him as she continued to complain “And that’s not even  **ALL** she’s done! We can’t bring her with us. I promised you I wouldn’t send her back to the puddles. But we are not bringing her with us.”

“Yes we are.” Henry responded, eyes narrowed as he directed his attention toward his companions. It was sort of interesting to watch from an outsider's perspective. A group of bickering toons was basically all it was “Allison, I don’t know what happened before I came here.”

“You’re right. You don’t know what happened.” The fake angel’s scowl grew deeper.

“But we saw the change in Sammy,” He gestured to the man in question “And the change in you.”

“Change in  **ME?** ” Allison almost looked offended by the toon devil’s words. A mixture of it that had some confusion to go on the side.

“The point is, is that somewhere deep down under all that ink the  **ACTUAL** version of you is in there. In everyone, I would hazard to guess. Even her,” He pointed to Susie now, and once again his attention was focused back on her “I don’t know how but I am going to find a way to get you all out of here. Get you out of this endless cycle you all seem to be stuck in."

They all listened now as he said that. All attention focused on Henry. The sole little devil in the room. No one ever talked about leaving anymore, not from what she’d heard anyway. No one thought it was possible to leave. Most thought being there was just how it was supposed to be. That being an inkly slug was all they’d ever known. 

No one had  **HOPE** anymore. Especially not her. And yet, there Henry was. Spouting off some garbage about getting them out of there. About setting them  _ free _ . And damn it, she actually sort of believed him. Actually thought...maybe they had a chance? At the least, maybe an opportunity to beat the crap out of Joey Drew before returning to the puddles. Susie thought that might be a rather nice way to go.

“And tell me how you plan to do that?” She spoke up, arms crossed over her chest. She may have believed in him but that didn’t mean she planned to follow him blindly.

“I...don’t know yet. I won’t lie to you, I’m making it up as I go along. But there  **HAS** to be a way. And the first step to finding a way is in Joey’s office.”

“And how are we going to get there when we constantly have to watch our backs and guard them from  _ her? _ ” Allison asked, pointing in the direction of Susie.

“I may still want to run a knife through that head of yours but if there is an actual chance at getting out of here, I want in.” Susie argued. She’d be damned if the tramp that stole her role would keep her from leaving the studio! 

“You see?  **THIS** is why we can’t take her with us!”

Henry had his head in his hands now. Susie thought she heard him mumble to himself, asking something before answering his own question. Was it weird it was in two different tones? Maybe she was just hearing things in the heat of the moment. 

“She’s coming with us.” Sammy, from his own little corner, spoke up finally. Though he was still dripping ink and clinging to the table, his tone was firm. One that made it clear not to argue with him “Whine about it all you want. Hell, have Tom stalk behind her like he did me. But she’s coming with. That’s final.”

Allison narrowed her eyes at him “It isn’t-”

“So!” Henry took his head out of his hands, trying to look at the motley crew that was slowly assembling “Why don’t we all just play nice, just for a bit longer, and go to Joey’s office? Can we do that? Just for me? For all of you?”

The room fell silent for a moment. A rather  **LONG** moment. It was clear that most of them were still in a disagreement with one another. But no one wanted to speak up and possibly  _ anger _ Henry further. If the toon devil could even get angry. At the moment he just seemed more annoyed, if anything. Like he was talking to a bunch of children that just wouldn’t listen. And Susie had half a mind to agree that that was exactly what they were. More so the  _ tramp _ than her.

“Fine,” Allison broke the long silence. Rubbing her eyes before looking to Henry “ _ Fine _ . Until we get to the office. But I’m not letting her stay with us any longer than that.”

“That...works. For now.” Henry sighed. Susie didn’t intend to just up and walk away once they reached that office. Especially if they didn’t find exactly what they were looking for to get them out of that hell hole. If there even was anything that could get them out of there. But she wasn’t going to up and say anything, not right now at least. She didn’t need Allison throwing another tantrum.

“So then,” Henry looked at each of them again. Hands clasped together as he spoke “Should we get a move on?”


End file.
